


Dopplebanger

by RTSideStories



Series: Fenrir [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But really just a whole lot of different sexual things, Daddy Kink, M/M, Mpreg, Polyamory, Voyeurism, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RTSideStories/pseuds/RTSideStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been having these WEIRD dreams lately.  Dreams where he's being fucked and then cuddled to death by his packmates.  At least, he THINKS they are dreams, up until he sees a video of someone that looks exactly like him, doing those same things.  Danny say's he's got a kick ass dopplebanger, but Stiles quickly realizes the truth.<br/>The Dopplebanger is HIM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There had been a lot of strange things that happened in the 18 years that Stiles had been on planet earth.

Like his best friend being mauled and bitten by a stray werewolf two years earlier.  Not that it was uncommon with the nationwide werewolf council trying to reign in the "problems" with feral werewolves, but it was definitely a transition for him and his buddy.

Then there was the Whittemore scandal a year earlier, when the school asshole Jackson Whittemore had been accused of knocking up the daughter of a local pack leader.  He’d been given the bite thanks to a raving lunatic werewolf father, and only later did the daughter admit it had been her ex-boyfriend the parents hated who had impregnated her.  Another transition, to be sure..  Though Jackson seemed happier as a werewolf, and only got more obscenely hotter than he already was.

Or who could forget Isaac Lahey moving to their school six months ago, or the police finding him naked and chained in the basement of his father’s house after an anonymous tip had been phoned in to them.  Everyone in school knew he’d been sexually abused since childhood not ten minutes later.  

Thankfully, Derek Hale had taken all three of them into his tutelage and gave them all the name Hale. He’d been the oldest son of the Hale pack out of Southern California before moving north to expand his family’s territory and find himself a mate.   

Stiles had met Derek through Scott, and somehow managed to cement a friendship with him and his small pack.  He’d even been invited to pack night, pack dinners, and finally even made a full pack member about 3 months after Jackson had joined.  

Things had actually gotten NORMAL again by the time Stiles hit his eighteenth birthday.  He was an adult, and could make adult decisions without his father’s input.  Like taking the bite from Derek Hale and becoming a full-blooded werewolf.  A decision he’d been thinking about since Scott turned.

No more awkward moving, ADHD was a thing of the past, and he’d toned up his body into a miniaturized version of Derek’s.  He was strong, sexy, and NORMAL at last. Even better, he found himself in the pack protection of 4 of his best friends, and had a bond between them that he hadn't felt since his mother’s passing

Still, apparently having 6 months of normal is all the universe would let him tolerate.

So as he opened his eyes in the middle of the night, he quickly knew things were VERY wrong.

For one, he was not asleep in his upstairs bedroom.  Everything in the room was way too nice to be his own, and the mattress beneath him wasn’t jabbing him with coils.  A modern, chic room with expensive gadgets and knick-knacks he’d never pick out for himself.  A flat screen TV was mounted on the wall, with the ending credits of The Hunger Games rolling.  Instead of his bland windows and wall paint, the room was in a deep red, with an entire wall-window that let the crescent moon beam inside and give light for him to barely see.  Not to mention a massive memory foam mattress made his skin feel as though he were on the clouds itself.

Happy mattress Stiles might have ignored the room’s variance and got straight back to sleep, had it not been for the other fact.

He was naked.

Stiles’ eyes were met with his pale body, completely buck bare.  His muscles were gone, replaced with a thin layer of healthy skin, while his hips had jetted out.  There was also the troubling fact that his pubic hair was a smooth as a baby’s.  Actually, all of it was troubling, considering he always slept in pajama pants, had worked his ass off for his new six pack after the bite, and had never shaved his pits or crotch a day in his life.

There were also slight issues with his body.  His skin was paler, he lacked any freckles or moles that once littered his body, and somehow had managed to grow several inches of hair on his head, resulting in a head of full volumed hair just like his friend Scott.  

Stiles tried to open his mouth, with no noise capable of leaving his throat in an attempted scream.  Magic?  Whatever it was, he couldn’t speak.   

Probably a good thing, considering he finally saw his junk.

His dick had receded into his body, losing all the girth and length it once had.  Even erect, it was barely three inches max.  At the same time, his balls had inflated, and felt heavy as he adjusted himself.  They swayed back and forth, full and aching in pain.

In complete freakout mode, Stiles rolled out of the bed and immediately scanned the room for any semblance of clothing he could use to run away with.  He’d find a phone, call his dad, and he’d get picked up with hopefully a minimum of questions.

In the end, all he could find was some expensive jeans, a crumpled henley T-shirt and…  

“No fucking way,” Stiles thought to himself, picking up a school letterman jacket.  “Whittemore” was on the back.  Looking around in the pitch-black dark, he finally realized where he was.  

Jackson Whittemore’s bedroom.

"Get over here.   I'm not paying for you to look through my stuff, fucking slut,” Jackson said.

Stiles dropped Jackson’s jacket.  Some force other than himself moved his legs, turning back to the bed.  He tried to cover his crotch, but whatever was controlling his body had other plans.

Sleeping in a heap of sweat was Jackson Whittemore, naked as well.  His muscular body was coated in various fluids, and the scent of lube came from his crotch.  The well-kept blonde hair he styled into perfection was sticking up all over the place, in a bad case of sex-hair.  His cock was a lot bigger than Stiles had ever probably imagined, teetering just below 9 inches.  Everything about his muscles were rugged, but had a flushed complexion thanks to his smooth skin.  Jackson was apparently a fan of manscaping, where his legs and thighs were completely bare, but his crotch had a neatly trimmed section of pubes.

Oh, and his packmate was rock hard.  By staring at HIM.

“Oh my fucking god, I did not SERIOUSLY just sleep with Jackson Whittemore!” he thought to himself, mentally gagging.  Not that Jackson wasn’t hot, and he’d probably jacked off about it a million times, but…  If he’d really slept with him, it hadn’t been on HIS terms.  Magic had been involved, and he immediately tears well up in his eyes.  

“Did Jackson drug me?!”  No…  No, I can’t feel that shit in my blood,” he said to himself.

“I’m sorry daddy.  Wanted to smell your musk.  Couldn’t find anything with that right hint of YOU,” Stiles said.  

Or at least, Stiles felt his lips move and SAY it.  The voice that came out of his body was different.  It had a sultry effect, deeper, and more whiny than Stiles’ regular voice.  It wasn’t HIM.  It was someone else, the same person who’d moved his body without permission.   

With zero control over his own body, Stiles felt his legs move and crawl back into bed with Jackson.  The jock snagged Stiles’ face, drug him closer and planted a menacing kiss on his lips.  Stiles’ mouth opened, and the internal scream of feeling Jackson’s tongue wrestle with his own was more than he could handle.  

At least, until Stiles felt liquid shooting out of his ass.

“Ah, baby…  You wet again?  Damn, we’ve already done it nine times tonight!  Daddy needs to rest…” Jackson said, breaking the kiss in short intervals before he trailed down to Stiles’ chest.  He clamped his lips over Stiles’ nippled and suckled loudly and greedily.

“This is not happening.  I can’t control my own body, Jackson is marking me up, and we’ve fucked NINE times while my ass is shooting jizz and lube out of it,” Stiles thought to himself, mentally cursing his new werewolf body.  Deltas were switch hitters, capables of pleasuring both male and female werewolves.  His ass was basically a fancy vagina attachment now, fully capable of bearing pups thanks to the “male uterus” that Deaton had to LITERALLY draw him a picture of.  Stiles always knew he’d been gay, but self lubrication was something he was still dealing with.

He felt Jackson's hand travel across his chest, pressing tiny circles in his skin.  After a while, he realized Jackson had been tracing Stiles' name.

"I'd never be able to tell him, you know," Jackson said quietly.

Stiles felt an uptick in Jackson’s heartbeat.  His packmate was hurt.

"How the crap would that even work?  I mean, Stilinski hates me.  I've been an ass to him my whole life, and I just NOW all of a sudden have feelings for him, since he got the bite?  How do you even explain it?  "Hi Stiles, since you got the bite, you smell like sex and I’ve been forced into hiring a prostitute to satisfy myself so I don’t bend you over the table and claim you for myself!”  Yeah, that would go over PEACHY,” Jackson said, shutting his mouth as he started kissing trails up and down Stiles’ neck and shoulders.  As though he wanted every ounce of Stiles’ skin to be kissed.

“Listen…  I know I paid for the night, but I’m going to need more in the morning.  I’ll do an extra five hundred.  It’s Saturday, and…  I won’t see Stiles again until Monday,” Jackson grumbled angrily.

Stiles felt his hand travel to Jackson’s cheeks and pull him in for a kiss on the lips.  A sensual, sweet kiss like they'd been lovers for decades.   “Five hundred sounds great Daddy…  You’ve got me ALL Saturday long,” the deeper voice said, nibbling on Jackson's ear.

Stiles felt dizzy as Jackson began groping his crotch, and everything slowly evaporated into a cloudy blur.

 

+

 

A lucid dream.  It had taken the better part of three panicked hours in the early morning before he could come up with a reasonable explanation.  

He grabbed psychology books out of the library and printed off dozens of articles.

Stiles needed to confirm that what happened was just a fucked up dream and not some supernatural screw up.

Though for everything that fit the definition, there were variations.

For one was his body.  

His hair was normal again, down to its typical buzzed fashion.  He had hair on his crotch and armpits again, and his voice wasn’t the clammy temptress anymore.  Though his ass was on fire.  After Stiles had passed out, he assumed that whatever had been in control of his body went through with Jackson’s deal.  

While physical alterations were possible in a dream, pain shouldn't be.

Then there was his lack of control.  Whoever had been in his body with him had complete control.  Stiles was merely an observer.

In the school cafeteria, he was neck deep in a medical article when Danny slammed down next to Stiles.  “Dude, do you hang out at the Jungle often?” Danny asked immediately, while he opened up his brown bag lunch.

"I'm not your type," Stiles joked immediately.  

Danny was an awesome guy.  He and Stiles came out about the same time in the 9th grade.  They'd been each other's support systems, and even went to rallies together. The Jungle was a gay club in town they'd both been to, and they always had a good time.  

"No, dude, I need an honest answer," Danny said, elbowing Stiles in the side.

Stiles nodded.  "Yeah, but not lately.  Probably haven't been there in a month.  Definitely worried about Wolfie going wild," he answered.  

It wasn't a lie.  Ever since getting the bite, the horniness level had been unbearable.  He wanted to get fucked badly, but wasn't about to be the school slut.  Not to mention the last time he went to the jungle, he nearly gave a complete stranger  blowjob in a back alley and presented his ass in the air before Derek showed up out of nowhere and scooped him up.

Danny seemed disappointed at the news.

“Goddamn, that's too bad.  In that case, you have got one KICK ASS dopplebanger,” he exclaimed.

“A what?” Stiles asked, feeling a pang in his stomach.

“Dopplebanger.  A prostitute or porn star that looks exactly like you.  Mostly celebrities, but damn this one is like your TWIN!" Danny said, ruffling through his jeans.  "You sure your dad didn't...  You know....  Sow some oats in another farm?  Cuz this is too creepy otherwise," he said, flipping to his video app and handing it to Stiles.

Stiles had to cover his mouth in abject horror.

It was… HIM.  The him from last night, with the shaved body and full head of hair.

The video was set in some back alley of the Jungle, Stiles recognized it as the spot where people went back to bang.  

On of of the many ratty mattresses was his dopplebanger.  Around him were no less than twelve guys, all with their dicks out and around him.  The “him” was deepthroating one guy, giving two handjobs simultaneously, while taking one up his ass.  

His body was getting gangbanged and loving it.

 

“Fucking hot..  This bitch knows how to deliver”

“GOD, he’s so hot…  You’ve gotta fuck this hole.”

"You liking this, whore?"

  
  


Stiles watched his dopplebanger look up at Danny’s camera.  Whatever he was, he was quite the showman.  After one of his handjobs spurted spunk all over his face and chest, his other self milked the cock dry of his last drop, and quickly used his fingertips to scrape it off his skin and then suckle it like a bottle.

"I love it Daddies...  Fuck me deeper," his dopplebanger moaned out.

The video ended, and Danny hid his phone back in his pocket as a few people began walking in their direction.

"No offense dude, but this is like super hot," Danny laughed, slapping Stiles on the back.  "You could have a serious porn career if you did shit like that," he said, quickly throwing his sandwich into his mouth and eating hungrily.  

Not wasting any time, Stiles had his own phone opened and began texting furiously.

  
  


Stiles:  dad, no questions, but I need an honest answer.  Did you or mom have any other kids?  Or like, have flings?  is there any way i have a twin?  

 

It took all of ten seconds for his father to reply.

 

Pops:  No.  I'd ask why, but I really don't want to know.  

 

Stiles felt his stomach drop.  He pushed away the lucid dream research.  It wasn't going to help anymore.

The other him was real.

 

-

 

Stiles felt his eyes open again.  He'd been studying at his desk, and must have drifted off at some point.  

Though he quickly felt the familiar haze of the night he spent with Jackson.  

All it took was spotting tacky wallpaper before he knew he was back in his other body again.  The dopplebanger’s.

"Money's on the table," Derek grumbled.

Stiles' neck would have gotten whiplash as fast as he spun around if he weren't a werewolf.  

Derek Hale was naked, toweling off from a shower.  His body was everything Stiles had pictured.  Every ounce of his muscled body was covered in a low grade of fuzz, incredibly hairy and the definition of manhood.  Even his ass was blacked in body hair, in their flawless peach shaped figure..

Taking a mental note, Stiles trid to lock the image of Derek’s package in his mind forever.  Fantasy was one thing, but the real deal was even better.  

Massively hung, Derek’s non-erect member was somewhere around 7 inches, and had the girth of a tube of toothpaste.  Just like the rest of his body, he let hair naturally grow without much shaving.  His thick balls and upper groin were forests of hair, and Stiles was pretty sure Derek’s balls could double as small weights.

None of that compared to Derek’s smile.  Like an excited teenager after their first booze party, Derek’s smile was blinding as he showed teeth, unable to stop the muscles from forming a cute dimple in his cheek.

"I'd wish you would let me take you somewhere nice.  This is too tacky," Derek mumbled annoying, while simultaneously sounding as though he were lying..  

Stiles took in his surroundings.

A cheap motel.  Dusty mattresses, a tv from the 80's, and broken furniture.  The smell of vomit and urine emanated from the moldy floors.

Stiles knew exactly where they were.  It was the spot his dad called "Hookers Hookup".  Just outside of his jurisdiction, he couldn't do shit about the rampant prostitution.  The sheriff in the other county was on the cut, without a doubt.

Stiles felt his other self shift under the sticky sheets.  He was covered in sweat and cum, and his ass was throbbing in a low pain.  Yet, it felt amazing.  Like it had been used for its real purpose, and a low grade hum in his gut left him gleefully contentend.

"Daddy wants to treat his pretty whore?  Aww, well, then who am I to say no to my big strong Alpha?" Stiles said, unable to stop his lips from saying it.

Derek growled, with a curved smile.  "Better stop the sexy talk, or I'm going to be all over you again," he said playfully.

Dopplebanger Stiles giggled, weaving out of the tangled sheets and baring his neck.  In the mirror across the room, Stiles would see the bruises and hickies covering his body.  His white skin was a canvas that Derek had painted with his teeth and mouth.  Sore, but good.

"Such a good Alpha.  You'd take care of your bitch real good, wouldn't you?" Stiles said, much to his own horror.

Humming low, Derek bent down and took Stiles's mouth like lightning flashing.  His tongue lapped with Stiles', and had a sharp nibble on his lip.

"Same time next week.  I'll pick you up at the Jungle.  We're going to the Hilton," Derek ordered.  

Stiles nodded.  "Okay Daddy," he whispered, pecking a kiss on Derek's strong chest.

Derek stopped and grabbed Stiles' body, bringing him in for a deep, wet kiss.  He came up for air, panting.  “Actually…  I want to pay for the full night.  How much?” He begged to know.

Stiles felt his body move, again without his permission, and he soon found himself nuzzling against Derek’s firm chest.  “Do you want the full thing like Jackson gets?  Or the usual night for yourself?” He asked.

“The usual, please," Derek begged.  

"No charge then.  I'm feeling cuddly," his dopplebanger said quietly.

Smiling, Derek hopped off the bed.  Grabbing his underwear from the ceiling man, Derek snapped his breifs onto his groin and stepped into them.  

Simultaneously, Stiles watched his own body reach over and pick up his own undergarments.  Apparently, his dopplebanger liked frilly panties.  They were see through and pink with lace roses trimming the sides..

Derek was already back on the bed, in nothing but his briefs.  He pulled Stiles close and had his hand over Stiles' chest.  The other hand was on Stiles’ head, where he massaged it in small circles.

Derek was…  Petting him.  

“Can I pretend you're him?  Just for a little while?” Derek asked quietly.

Stiles felt his head nod.  “Anything you want, Alpha,”he said, purring into Derek's body.

Derek reciprocated, nuzzling his fuzzy beard into Stiles’ neck and cooing sweet kisses as he did.

As an observer, Stiles couldn't believe what he was seeing.  Derek Hale was a cuddling domestic.

“Stiles, I love you," Derek said, and he planted a firm kiss on his neck.  

"What?!" Stiles thought to himself.  

Derek's hands gripped the dopplebanger's chest an squeezed them tightly.

"I...  I want you to move home with the pack.  We all do.  We...  We love you and want to come home where you belong.  I...  I want to make you mine, fill you up with pups, and then never make you lift a finger again.  I want you raising our pups, be the mother of the pack, and give you anything you ever wanted," Derek said, throwing his head into Stiles' neck.  Stiles felt the Alpha's tears run onto his back.

"You're our mate.   We...  We're hurting without you.  We want our Delta...  You make us whole, and I..." Derek said, crying into Stiles.

Not that he heard much more.  The cloudy fog of war enveloped his head as everything blacked out quietly.

 

-

 

Stiles had woke back up in his own bed.  No panties, no Derek, and no sleazy motel.

His heart was a jackhammer, everything re-running through his brain.  

"Enjoy the show?"

Stiles' face went blank.  It was his voice, yet it wasn't.  

Glancing to the side, his completely naked dopplebanger was lounging on his desk.

Stiles fell off his bed, grabbing his lacrosse stick and holding it like a sword.  

"Who the fuck are you?!  And WHY am I watching your sex life unfold?!" Stiles screamed.  

The double rolled his eyes.  "First of all, this is a dream.  Relax," he explained, taking a deep breath.  "I don't expect you to understand, but this is what we NEED.  If you weren't such a coward, I wouldn't have to do this and hijack our body," he moaned, crossing his legs.

Stiles still held his stick tightly.  "You haven't answered my question, weirdo!" He spat.

The clone Stiles rolled his eyes again, huffing as though he were dealing with a toddler..

“I’m you.  You’re me.  We share a body.  A body that I can manipulate and control ONLY at night.  Get it, yet?”

Stiles felt ridiculously stupid.  This was basic shit.

“You’re my wolf,” he said instantly.

The wolf applauded sarcastically.  “And the last horse crosses the finish line!  Congratulations!" He said.  "Call me Swiles.  Nice to finally meet you," he said playfully.

Stiles put down his stick.  "Goddamn..  Uh.  Hi.  So...  I actually..." He said, stammering at the end.

Swiles smirked.  "Our body has slept with a fair share of guys at the Jungle.  Since then, I've sold out body to the pack.  They don't know it's you, I call myself William.  I also went out of my way to change my appearance enough so that your social life would remain unchanged," he explained.

"Oh my God," Stiles said, covering his face in pure embarrassment.  

“I won’t force you to experience it first hand.  I’m not going to make you feel raped, but I’m not stopping.  This is my pack, and you’re not providing for them like you should.  Furthermore, this is OUR body, and I know this is what you want.  You're the one fighting who you really are," Swiles explained, hopping off the desk and moving to Stiles' side.  He kissed Stiles on the cheek, nuzzling their neck.

"What do you mean this is what I want?!   Since when is being a slut on my bucket list!?" Stiles shouted.

Swiles shook his head.  "You'll understand soon." he whispered.  He sighed.  “Just listen to your heart, and quit being afraid of what the world thinks,” he said, kissing Stiles on the forehead before everything melded into a blurry mess.


	2. Chapter 2

Four days later, and Stiles had been put through the daily post-sex wrap up parties courtesy of his asshole wolf.

Jackson had snagged Swiles on two occasions, and Derek on the other two.

Jackson had a thing for dirty talk, and apparently liked the idea of being a sugar daddy.  Because Swiles always seemed to get some lacy undergarments at the end of their evenings.  Stiles found the stash of them under his bed, alongside various toys of questionable sizes.  

Derek was all about the idea of romance.  True to his word, Swiles was always treated to dinner in the Hilton lobby before they hit the sheets in their suite.  Afterwards, it was hours of petting and pining over Stiles.  Apparently Derek REALLY loved him.  He said it enough to Swiles anyway.  

Though Stiles couldn't take everything at face value.  Just because Swiles said he was his wolf didn't make it true.  

Until he knew for SURE that his pack wasn't under some sexy plot to destroy them, Stiles wasn't about to act. 

A sexy plot?  How had his life gotten this far?

Finding facts wasn't easy, given that he had little to no base knowledge about Swiles.

The only thing Stiles could do was research.  Which unfortunately led him down a short list of things that he did know about Swiles.

 

1). He had a prominent daddy kink.

2).  Zero modesty.

3). Was a mixture of feminine and masculine.

4). Voyeristic

5). Sex hungry

 

Not much to go on.

Though he did have half a dozen articles on bdsm "daddy" relationships.  He'd later cross reference the need with personalities in the bestiary.  

He was joined by Lydia, the walking beauty of cascading red hair. They'd been bffs since the ninth grade after someone tried to rip his gay pride t-shirt off his back.  Lydia slapped the shit out of them and paid to replace it.  The two then bonded with Danny, and the three of them all together had a newfound relationship that usually had them watching movies on Saturday nights and then sleeping over at Lydia's house for gossip and talk.  

Scott had been very relieved that Stiles no longer used him to talk about dicks and asses.  

Lydia glanced at the web articles as she popped open her homemade salad.  "What are you plotting now?  The downfall of Belgium?  I'm in, by the way," She asked.

"No, that's next week.  This week is sexy research," Stiles said, with a playful smirk.

"Even better!  So what's on your pervy little mind?" Lydia asked, peeking into the research.  

Stiles sighed.  "Right now, Daddy kinks.  Then public sex and what that means about a person's mind," he answered, coming up from the table to slam a part of his club sandwich into his starving guy.

"So what have you found?" Lydia asked curiously.

Stiles huffed.  "So like...  Everything I read is stupid.  There's not enough research on sex.  Half the articles say it’s a psychological thing, while the other half just say it’s a sexual fantasy brought on by feelings of inadequecy.  Bullshit 100%.  There are textbooks on sex, like college textbooks, but I’m not spending 750 dollars for an answer I should be able to figure out on my own,,” he answered.

Lydia hummed, thinking for several moments as she forks her salad and munches on the fresh kale.

"I'm guessing daddy kinks comes from a lack of a strong male figure in one's life.  They have a desire for that strict discipline, which is why it's so prominent in bdsm culture.  Or maybe because they didn't have anyone to show them love and attention..  No family warmth.  You know, I could see that with you,” she answered.

“You WHAT?” Stiles asked, in clear deadpan.

“I said, I could picture you having a daddy kink because of that,” Lydia said, crossing her legs.  “Your mom died when you were, what, 8 or 9?  Then your Dad became Sheriff a few years later, leaving you to basically raise yourself.  So yeah, I could see you needing some release.  A set of big strong arms to take care of you and-”

“Lydia, if you finish that sentence, I will END you,” Stiles said, silently fuming as his face turned a beet shade of red.

Jackson soon joined them plopping down right beside Stiles.  He sniffed the air once or twice.  “Dude, what are you all fucking riled up about?” he asked, grabbing the can of soda from his tray and popping the top.  He took a long swig.

"We're talking about Stiles' daddy kink.  He got all flustered when I said he’d be putty in some big strong arms that take care of him and them probably fuck him into the mattress,," Lydia replied seriously, but with a playful smirk directed in Stiles’ direction..

While Stiles braced for the immediate insult coming from the peanut gallery that was Jackson Hale, he was instead met with soda spewing out of Jackson's nose and covering his good shirt.

Pretty much the entire cafeteria had turned to watch the scene unfold, as the entire tables around them erupted into laughter, pointing at Stiles’s show drenched shirt.

“Say it, don’t spray it,” Stiles answered, standing up from the table, stuffing his research and now dripping wet sandwich into his backpack.  He huffed off, moving towards the cafeteria exit and bounding off into the hallway corridors.

It didn’t take long for Stiles to feel a hand on his back.

“Dude, I’m sorry.  Come on, I’ll get you cleaned up,” Jackson spat angrily.

Stiles turned to Jackson, watching as his packmate pushed him towards the gym area.  Before he knew it, the two of them were in the lacrosse locker rooms, and Jackson had pushed Stiles down on one of the many benches.

Moving to his locker, Jackson spun the combination at the speed of light, and sighed.  “Next time you choose to share your sex life, it’d be better if you didn’t do it while I was drinking something,” he said quietly.  The words had a veiled attempt at an insult, but fell flat.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stiles answered back, attempting to contain his heart rate.  Pretty much every night he’d been Swiles, Jackson roleplayed as Daddy.  It had gotten…  Comfortable.  

Jackson grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath, throwing his spare gym shirt at Stiles.

"Sorry.  I’m being an ass.  You can keep it.  I’ll get another one from coach," Jackson said, slamming his locker shut and promptly making himself scarce.

“Thanks!” Stiles said, shaking out his mental delusion of their nights before and realizing what an ass he’d been.  Jackson was romantically and sexually interested in him, and he’d pretty much just baited the dude hard-core.  Even if it had been Lydia’s comment, Stiles could have handled it a lot better.

Shaking off the realization that there was going to be a VERY awkward discussion sometime in the near future, Stiles shucked off his damp clothes and crawled into Jackson’s shirt.  The fit was pretty snug.  Even though Stiles hadn’t gained THAT much muscle, Jackson would always be the leanest member of the pack.  Honestly, Stiles needed about half a size bigger, or at least something to wear over it.

Ignoring that fact, Stiles took a few moments to towel off the coke that had gotten in his hair, and rushed out of the lockers as the final bell for lunch rang.  He was going to be late for Chemistry, which meant that he’d soon be feeling the wrath of Harris.

Jogging out of the locker area, it wasn’t long before Stiles nearly ran into Scott.  He stopped just short of the tanned muscular figure, and that wavy set of hair he KNEW that Scott had started using product on.

“Hey, sorry!” Stiles said, laughing as he slowed his pace down to walk with Scott to their next class.

Scott stopped in the hall, mouth gaping.

“What?” Stiles asked, glancing his buddy’s growing “pouty face”.

"Is that..  Jackson's shirt?!" Scott yelled, growling under his breath.

Stiles wasn’t good at smelling emotions yet, at least when they weren’t completely obvious.  Still, he smelt that rotten scent of…  Envy?

"He spat coke all over me after Lydia mentioned something wildly inappropriate,” Stiles answered, trying to laugh off the entire situation.

"Oh," Scott replied, losing his menacing demeanor immediately.  Though his face was still in full puppy pout.  “Dude, no offense, but you REEK of him.  Like, not even in the pack kind of way, but you smell like…  Just him,” he explained.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Scott, are you REALLY going to do the over possessive bullshit right now?  I swear, between you and Derek, I’d swear I was nothing but an expensive chew toy!” he joked.

The sting in Scott’s face said it all, and Stiles immediately regretted his words.

_“Dumbass, you did NOT just say that to the people who are paying a dopplebanger prostitute to fuck because they’re in fucking LOVE with you!”_

Sighing, Stiles held out his wrist, as they stopped outside of the chem classroom.  The hallways were practically empty at that point anyway.  “Just do it,” he said, trying not to stare at the mortification on Scott’s face.

Scott, with a slightly happier smirk, moved his mouth over to Stiles' wrist and lapped at it for a couple of seconds with his long tongue.  The pulse point pounded as blood flushed through the body, carrying Scott’s scent.

A week ago, Stiles wouldn't have thought anything of it.  Scott licked the pack for his scenting process, just like Jackson swapped dirty clothes, Isaac's hour long cuddle fest, or Derek's insistence on having his Pack lie in his lap in a “puppy pile” to get his Alpha scent on them..  

Today?

Stiles felt his face heat up.

 

+

 

With more questions than answers about his life and the growing pack problems he was seeing come down the pipe, Stiles didn’t have much of a choice.  

Taking a deep breath in the middle of his bedroom, Stiles flopped backwards on his bed.  He rubbed his forehead painfully.

“Here wolfie, wolfie, wolfie…  You in there?” Stiles asked.

“If you call me like a dog again, I’ll beat your head in,” Swiles answered.

Leaping out of his skin, Stiles fell off the bed and was soon met with his wolf.  As obscene as ever, his wolf was naked as HELL, and sitting on top of their desk with his crotch and ass on full display as he cocked his elbows out to his widespread knees.

Stiles stood up, pointing at Swiles.  

“Dude….  This is so NOT a dream this time!  How the fuck are you there?!” Stiles shouted.

"I'm manipulating your frontal cortex into seeing a hallucinogenic copy of myself that could be physically touched by adjusting your basic senses," Swiles said, admiring his fingernails.  They were painted a dark black, much like the light tone of the dark circles under his eyes.

Stiles glanced at him incredulously.  "No fucking way..." He said, clearly in disbelief.

Swiles rolled his eyes.

"No, you fucking idiot, I'm your wolf!  I'm a supernatural being that lives in your soul.  We can chat like this any time you want.  We can touch, feel, whatever!  Not that anyone else can see me, so I wouldn’t call me in public.  Well, unless you’re one of those assholes that likes looking like a douchebag with their bluetooth headsets," He belted out.  

Stiles growled under his breath.  “You have a shitty personality, anyone ever tell you that?” he spat.

“Learned from the best!” Swiles countered, thankfully crossing his legs.  “So…  You finally ready to accept me?” he asked, obviously knowing the coming answer.

Laughing, Stiles shook his head.  “Uh, NO.  I’m not ready to become Mr. Slut Man McEasyHole.  I have QUESTIONS.  You want me to even assume you’re anything but some rabid sex demon?  Answer them an be honest.  I’m a fucking lie detector,” he answered.

“A lie detector that fucks…  Hmm, that would be an amusing hobby,” Swiles offered, with a smug smile.

“Ha ha, cute.  You going to do what I say?” Stiles demanded.

"Just ask your dumb questions.  Research me all you like, there is no getting rid of me," Swiles said, picking up one of Stiles' hidden pornos from the inside of their desk and flipping through it.

Stiles didn’t waste any time.  Reaching into his backpack from the end of the bed, he retrieved a well-worn notebook.

"Can the other guys talk to their wolves?" Stiles asked.

Swiles shrugged, angling the porno to truly admire the centerfold hunk.  "Derek is a born wolf, so they're basically the same person.  Jackson and Scott were both turned against their will, so their human side probably wins out over the wolf, making conversation useless.  I'm willing to bet Isaac tries to hide his wolf self as a defense mechanism for his abuse. You though?  You welcomed me into your heart.  You wanted the bite and everything that came with it," he answers.

“So then you’re like an infection?  You’re possessing me?” Stiles asked immediately.

"No, dumbass, I'm not just some mystical spirit that popped inside of you.  After you got the bite, I was born from YOUR soul.  I’m a part of you that’s just never been vocal before,” Swiles responded.

Stiles cocked an eyebrow, dubious of the answer, but not hearing an uptick of a lie..

Clearly exasperated, Swiles massaged his head annoyingly.  "Let me put it in ways your stupid generation X face can get.  I'm your Id, the basic desires that we want and need fueled by instinct.  You are our superego, being the moral conscience that stops us from doing stupid shit.  We're missing the link between us that would act as the ego, making realistic versions of our basic desires happen, with the social or moral consequences kept in check,” he explained.

Scoffing, Stiles laughed in a set of fake “ha’s”.  

“Dude, I guarantee you that it has never been my instinct to want to…  Oh, you know, FUCK MY BEST FRIENDS,” Stiles shouted.

Swiles rolled shies eyes.

"I’m not interested in the fucking.  Well, okay, I AM, but we’re a horny gay teenage boy, that’s natural.  What I’m more concerned with is having real human contact and letting my heart be open.  Feel an actual connection,” he answered.

Stiles lost his smarmy glares and cocky attitude.  His face melted.

Swiles saw his opening.

“Maybe we’re fighting each other because you never had a chance to be a kid.  Or that you had an “appearance” to keep up.  We were, at best, the nerdy kid in school back when our mom died.  Being the nerdy sad kid with ADHD and a father who was too busy to care for us?  Yeah, that would have gone off well,” Swiles said, slamming the porno down and hopping off the desk.  He walked towards Stiles.

"Stiles...  For 18 years, you have been a rock.  Taking care of your father, being there for Scott and Jackson as they went through their change, letting yourself be Isaac's anchor and therapist the last six months?  Not to mention the fact that you’ve wanted Derek Hale since the day he moved to Beacon Hills, only to distance yourself out of fear of intimacy and love,” Swiles said, cupping his Superego’s cheeks and rubbing them gently. "You've never let anyone take care of you.  Hell, you were more of a father to your father than he was to you.  You've never wanted to feel close to anyone ever again.  It’s why you’re so blatantly sarcastic and attack everything sweet and loving with wit and candor.  Because...  Because you think anyone that mothers you is going to die.  You don't want to be alone again.  You…  You ignored me because you feel, deep down, that love means death,” he explained quietly.  

"Shut up," Stiles said, slapping his wolf’s hands away.  

Swiles backed up, folding his arms tightly against his chest.

Stiles was shaking  "You have NO RIGHT to poke in my life!  NO RIGHT.  GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD ALREADY!” he shouted as bitter tears trailed down his cheek.

Swiles shook his head.  "We're the same person, there’s no way for me to get out of your head at this point. I'm just the one who wants to move on and to hell with the consequences.   I NEED to feel loved, Stiles.  Sex is one of the most beautiful ways to feel that.  Especially with people that love and care about us like the pack does,” he answered.

In a fit, Stiles picks up one of his pillows and screams into it.

Swiles sighed, turning away from his other self.  "We're going out with Scott tonight.  He's not a frequent customer, but he still needs you.  I'll let you in after we're done.  You need to see how much you could be loved," he said quietly.

Pushing past Swiles, Stiles furiously tapped his fingers on his keyboard, opening up the main desktop.

"Few more questions, then I want your ass GONE," Stiles said, crushing his desk

Swiles huffed.  "Not like I'm going anywhere!" he said, rolling his eyes as he makes himself comfortable on their bed.

"What do you do with the money they pay you?  If I’m getting fucked, I’m entitled to it," Stiles asked.

"Bank account we had as kids for savings.  We're up to 7,500 right now.  Take whatever you want.  I can’t spend it, since I only have control at night,” Swiles answered

Stiles was typing furiously on google.  His wolf didn’t bother to check what he was searching.

“Who fucks us the most?  Is there a schedule?  I can’t imagine them sharing,” Stiles said, still clacking away.

Swiles grinned at the fond memories of making up the sharing schedule.  

"Jackson mostly, we're at his place on almost every weekday when his parents aren’t there.  Derek is a close second, and we're together all weekend long when he does hire me.  Isaac and Scott come to us maybe once or twice a month.  Isaac just cuddles since sex scares the shit out of him, but Scott pounds our ass like its the last fuck of his life.  They all share, and we have a mutual agreement that I only service those four.  Derek pays for all of it out of the pack fund.  As for how and why they share?  Well, I’ll leave you to find that mystery out, Shaggy,” he responded.

Stiles stopped typing momentarily, focusing in on the last few words Swiles had said.  Eventually, he shook it off, and would spend the better part of 2 hours interrogating his wolf.

 

+

 

The familiar presence of a cloudy blur was all Stiles needed to know.  Second nature, he knew he was being called by Swiles, who had control of his body.

Though a new location made things feel “fresh” in their weird-ass game.  

He was in Scott’s room.  The smell of week-old laundry and his cheap cologne wafted in his nose.  He could spot his buddy’s posters on the wall.

More importantly though, he could see Scott RIGHT in front of him.

His forehead and hair were slick with sweat, bouncing the volume up and down in a rhythmic thrust.  Scott’s well sculpted chest and tender nipples were screaming in a mixture of joy and agony, and Stiles felt his wolf’s slow pinching of his best friend’s chest.

Oh, and then there were the tears.  Of course Scott would be a crier in bed.  It wasn’t even pretty tears or tears of joy.  Stiles could smell the shame wafting, the sadness, and the depression deep down under Scott’s skin.  

"I'm sorry...  I'm...  I'm sorry," Scott said, while he furiously humped into Stiles’ ass.  Not that Stiles could feel it, courtesy of his wolf.  Though as he glanced down, he saw more of his friend’s junk than he ever thought possible.  While not as long as Derek or Jackson, Scott’s cock was massively thick.  As it came in and out of his hole, Stiles found it a small miracle it could fit.

Though surprisingly, Stiles was amazed to find that Scott was an adamant groomer, with his pubes shaved into a tiny bush.  Though unlike Jackson, Scott let his leg and arm grow out.  

Scott seemed to slow his pace in time of his apologies.

Swiles hushed him, cradling Scott’s face in his hands.  “Baby, you don’t have to be sorry.  It’s okay, it’s okay…  If you want to stop, we can stop.  It’s okay,” he said, pressing kisses into Scott’s forehead.

As if on cue, Scott pulled out one final time, crumpling into a heap on the bed next to them.  After all of ten seconds of masterbation, Scott came all over his sheets, generating a small puddle when it was all said and done.  

Scott didn’t waste any time in completely dissolving into gross sobs.  

For once, Stiles felt himself in control.  Swiles had backed off, and Stiles could move.  He threw his hands around Scott and hugged him tightly from behind.

"Derek says its NORMAL.  He says that if it wasn’t you, we’d probably lose control and fuck Stiles against his will, and I HATE THAT.  That we're just so pent up and frustrated that Stiles won't touch us, or even fucking MOVE IN to the house!  He's been pack for a month now, but...  I guess he can't smell it yet!” Scott cried, sniffling through it all.  He turned around, and met Stiles’ face, pressing a deep kiss and immediately regretting it as he backed off.

"We're...  All together, you know?  Me, Jackson, Isaac and Derek?  Like…  It’s how we bonded as a pack.  We all…  Fell for each other.  We…  We haven’t told anyone that yet,” Scott admitted, reaching around and pulling Stiles closer.

Suddenly, Scott's serious lack of dating since he turned and became McDreamy made a hell of a lot more sense.  

So did Jackson's talk of moving out and into the sparse Hale house over the summer, despite his home being much more comfortable.

Or Isaac leaving his foster family as soon as he hit 18, even though he loved them like crazy.  

Polyamory.   Four of his pack members were in a relationship together.  

His best friends were lovers and he didn't even realize it.

Now he knew why they were good at sharing.

Scott’s laughter broke Stiles’ train of thought and recalling how INSEPARABLE his pack had been.

"We...  We want him with us.  I mean, they guy you look like.  Stiles.  Holy hell is it creepy how much you two look like each other.  I’ve been best friends with him since elementary school, and fuck…  It’s weird looking at him and you and…  WANTING him,” he said, shaking his head as he pulled Stiles’ head under his neck.  He peppered Stiles’ head with kisses.

Stiles felt Scott trace his hip, where his moon-shaped birthmark would normally be.  They all had one, after the bite had taken.

“Almost anyway…” Scott mumbled, sighing.  "We want more than just sex and physical contact too.  Dont get me wrong, you’re awesome and all William, but..  I mean, we want the full shebang.  Jackson wants to take him out on dates, I want my letterman on his back, Isaac is dying to cuddle him into oblivion, and Derek?  I uh...  I see the way he wants to pull Stiles into a huge ass hug and never let him go,” he explained, as the tears finally ebbed away.  “Stiles is…  Stiles is just amazing.  The way he talks, the way he’s just so goddamn PASSIONATE about everything he does, that funny way he eats when he’s in a hurry, and just…  Goddamn…  I’m pouring my heart out to a prostitute.  Sorry…  I uh…  I know you’re not really getting paid to hear my shit,” Scott said, nervously laughing.  

Stiles tried to open his mouth, only to be met with his throat muscles being taken over again.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Swiles answered for Stiles.


	3. Chapter 3

Pack meetings (or Pizza Fridays at Derek’s house, as Stiles called it) became incredibly awkward inside the Hale house.  Knowing that he'd slept with his best friends, and that his best friends WANTING him made for long and inappropriate stares.  Even without looking, he felt them.  Wolfie sense or something.

Jackson seemed to never break eye contact with Stiles’ shoulders.  Isaac threw any sense of subtlety away and would cuddle up next to Stiles during every meeting, taking up all of Stiles’ lap.  Scott went out of his way to be friendly and obsessed over making sure Stiles ate no less than 10 slices of pizza for his wolf metabolism.  Derek was the most polite, but then again, he was usually the one talking.

Surprisingly enough, there actually seemed to be territorial business to be discussed.  A roaming Alpha pack had stopped on the outskirts of Beacon Hills and had sent an emissary to meet with Derek.  The meeting had been focused on their arrival and safe passage through the territory.  

From the head of the family-style table in the kitchen, Derek popped open another beer can.  Even though they couldn’t get drunk, it was the thought that counted.  

"The Alpha pack says they have no intention of making a territory war, and have been allies of the Hale family for years.  I know Deucalion from when I was a pup, he and my father have a long working relationship.  He’s not the kind the mince words or be “sneaky”.   If he wanted a war, then he’d just come in and massacre us.  The emissary has explained that they just want safe passage back to their home, and want our permission before they pack up their camp.  Your thoughts?” Derek asked, turning first to his second-in-command, Scott.

Scott shrugged, half-choking on his double stuffed crust pizza.  “I don’t care.  Let them through for all I care,” he answered, going immediately back to his pizza.

Sighing, Jackson shook his head.  “Okay, so…  Werewolf politics aside, why didn’t they just trapse through and not tell us?  What’s the big deal about your “blessing”?” he asked.

Isaac, still snug in Stiles’ lap, turned to Jackson.  “It’s rude.  In human terms, it would be like if Derek went into your room without permission and sniffed around to see what you’d been up to.  He didn’t do anything “illegal”, but it was an invasion of your privacy.  Territory disputes and crossings are a lot similar,” he explained.

Derek nodded.  “Isaac is correct.  Honestly, if they’d gone through without my blessing, I would be bound by the Hale code of conduct to track and interrogate him,” he responded.  Finally, he turned to Stiles.  “Your thoughts?” he asked.

Stiles couldn’t maintain eye contact.  He glanced away, and tried very hard not to picture Derek naked.  Succeeding was not possible.

“If they do come through, you might want them to avoid main streets.  Actually, we should pick them up and drive them through town and at the border on the other side.  We’re not the only werewolves here.  There’s a couple, Boyd and Erica at the school, who might take the Alpha pack presence the wrong way.  They’re free willed Betas who might fight to keep themselves from being claimed,” he offered.

Scott beamed.  “Dude, that is SMART.  Fuck, I keep forgetting we have free wolves here!” he said, raising his soda up in Stiles’ honor.

A rare smile covered Derek’s face.  “I agree.  I hadn’t thought of that angle.  You truly are the pack Delta, thinking of others before yourself,” he answered, nodding his appreciation.  “In this instance, I’ll be taking Stiles’ idea.  I’ll contact Deucalion in the morning and offer him a ride.  Jackson, can you let us borrow your father’s company car?  Their traveling pack has 4, and my Camaro won’t fit them comfortably,” he said.

Jackson nodded, already pulling out his cell phone and clacking away at it.

As he did, Derek went back to his meeting notes.  

“Now…  I have a breif announcement to make.  Peter Hale, my uncle from my father's side, is coming for a visit in a couple of weeks.  He’s my mother and father’s right hand man, and is the executor of their wishes.  Peter isn’t staying long, because his wife is due any week now, but he will be coming to inspect our pack and report to my mother.  I expect all of you to be on your best behavior and not lie to him if he asks you questions,” Derek announced.

Scott immediately shot his hand up.  “Uh…  Should we be worried?  The Hale pack is like werewolf royalty, right?” he asked.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “We are not royalty, we’re respected for our treatment of humans and our work with the Argent family as werewolves became public knowledge back in the 1920s.  And no, you should not be worried.  My parents are confident in my ability, and are pleased with the pack growth over the last few months.  If anything, Peter’s visit is likely about St-..  About stations that other packs can contact us through,” he said.

Stiles ears picked up the tick.  Derek was lying.  Badly.

Isaac shifted uncomfortably in Stiles’ lap.  “Don’t worry.  I’ve met Peter Hale before, back when I was still with my father.  He’s a good man.  I suspect he’s the one that called the cops on my dad,” he said, attempting to change the subject.

“Okay.  Just uh…  Just a little worried, to be honest.  I mean, they’re like the werewolf in-laws,” Scott said, trying to laugh through the awkwardness.

Derek finished the last of his beer, already reaching to his side and picking up another one from the communal cooler.  

“This leaves us for our last item of business, which is pack welfare and concerns.  I’ve only got one real thing I want to bring up,” he said, immediately turning to Stiles.  "Stiles...  We've discussed this in the past, but...  I'd like to revisit the subject,” he offered.

Stiles knew already where Derek was going with this.

"Shoot," he responded.

Derek gripped his can a little too hard.  "As part of my pack, I would rather you be closer to us for both your safety and our peace of mind.  I'd like for you to move in with us. Scott has already moved in, and Isaac has as well.  Jackson will be joining us after graduation full-time, but already has a room here that he stays most nights at.  We have a spot for you, always,” he he explained.

"Dude, it's FUN.  Like 3 AM xbox marathons fun,” Scott said, with a fun grin.

"It's like living with a house full of brothers!" Isaac offered, nuzzling in Stiles’ neck.  

“It’d also be nice to not have 2 neanderthals and 1 snuggle magnet in the house to MAYBE have an intelligent conversation with,” Jackson said.

“HEY!” Scott and Isaac spat in unison.

Ignoring them all, Stiles turned to Derek.

"Why is it important?  You wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise,” Stiles said.

Derek cringed.  "My family wants me to build the pack, and is why they sent me up here to expand our territory.  Part of expanding that pack is finding people for their roles that we can rely on.  As the pack delta, you would be expected to act as the denmother,” he answered.

“A what?” Stiles asked.

“Denmother,” Derek replied, rubbing his forehead.  “In basic terms, you would take care of the pack’s everyday needs.  Food, laundry, cleaning, that sort of thing.  Those sort of things would be second nature to a born Delta, but since you’re bitten, you’re still having your instincts come in slowly but surely.  Normally, it takes a few months to get in your brain,” he explained.

Stiles let that roll off his mind for a few moments.

“So you…  You want me to…  Be a housewife?” he asked.

Derek groaned.  “No…  Stiles, it’s…  Gah, it’s more than that.  I just… I don’t know how to explain it all, but it’s…  Fuck,,” he explained, shaking his head.  “My family is willing to pay for your living expenses and a weekly salary.   You wouldn't have to work or go to college.  The Hale pack would take care of you.  That’s what it means.  It’d be way easier if we could just wait and let your Delta instincts grow and you’d know everything,” he explained.  

Isaac nudged Stiles in the gut.  “Dude, take him up on it!  Free money!  No college!  No stupid looking for a career!” he offered.

Jackson smiled.  “You don’t even have to worry about that part yet.  You’re bitten, so half of the wolf stuff won’t come in for a while.  By then, everything will feel natural,” he said, attempting to smile in Stiles’ direction.

Glancing away, Stiles nodded.  "I'll need to think about it.  It's a uh...  Big change.  I’ll..  I’ll tell you more by the end of the week,” he answered.

Stiles’ eyes grew.  

“ _End of the week?!  Why’d you say that?!_ ” Stiles thought to himself.  The words had just slid out, naturally.

Though the words had a positive effect on the group.  Most of them seemed to relax.

"Take all the time you need," Derek said, nodding as their pack meeting came to an abrupt end.

 

+

 

Just like any other night, Stiles felt the all too familiar blur.  Swiles was letting him observe again, and vision started to finally set in.

Though there was a significant difference this time.  He wasn’t in a bedroom, and was actually somewhere in the outdoors, with the cold freezing his skin and bringing him to attention in a matter of seconds.

Beneath his feet were the wooden docks of a nearby lake.  He was sat in a beach chair, wearing a tight-fitting leather jacket and skinny jeans.  Isaac was in his arms, and a scarf linked their necks together.

Isaac was far from naked like the rest of his pack mates.  In fact, he was about as un-naked as one could be.  He was in a thick brown sweater and cargo pants, with his hair well-kept and styled.

A scent hit Stiles’ nose.  Hot cocoa and coffee.  Glancing to his side, two large thermoses were filled to the brim and steaming in a picnic basket.  

The moon and stars were open in the night, devoid of clouds and reflecting on the lake in front of them.

They were on a date.

Isaac sipped his cocoa, then quickly pressed a chaste kiss into Swiles’ neck..  “Thanks again.  For everything.  I needed stress relief, and…  Well, you’re not EXACTLY who I want, but you smell familiar and warm, and that face is flawless,” he said warmly.

Stiles glanced over to his pack mate.  Swiles had given him control again, and he could feel the chill in the air, the warm of his coffee, and how his heart thumped in time with Isaac’s.

“Whatever you want, baby,” Swiles said, massaging Isaac’s free hand with his own.  

Isaac laughed.  “Do you care if I bitch about something?” he asked.

Swiles nodded.  “Sure, I’m all ears for you,” he said,  

After a deep breath, Isaac drank the last of his hot chocolate and put the cup off to the side.  “This is going to sound absolutely crazy.  I mean, I feel bad about feeling this way, but…  I think I’m in love with Stiles, but in a totally different way than the rest are,” he explained.

“How so?” Swiles asked, while Stiles took liberty with his free hand to clutch Isaac’s hand tightly.

 _“Why would you love me?”_ Stiles thought to himself.

Isaac laughed.  “We’re not stupid, we all know how this is going to work.  Derek and Stiles are born to be mates together, and fit the roles of Alpha and Delta to a T.  Jackson and Scott see him as the Delta, and have a romantic and sexual attraction to him, like they should.  But me?  Sex will never be appealing to me again.  I’ve been raped so many times over the years thanks to my asshole father, that I’ll always associate it with pain and emotional trauma.  The pack knows that, and…  Stiles knows that.  He’s been there for me when nobody else was.  Unlike my asshole therapist, Stiles isn’t trying to “fix” me.  He just listens and lets me bitch.  We don’t talk about the abuse, and he lets me try to move on with my life.  In a way, he takes care of me…” he said, smiling fondly.  “Stiles is like…  My mother, or father, whatever.  Stiles feels like my PARENT. Which makes everything worse because I’m a Beta and I fall under his sexy Delta spell.  And right now, he fucking sucks at being a Delta,” he finished, sighing painfully.

“How so?” Swiles asked.

 _“Sounds like me.  I fuck everything up,”_ Stiles thought to himself.

Isaac groaned, shutting his eyes as he nuzzled into Swiles’ neck.

“I…  I think Stiles decided to be a wolf too soon.  He didn’t know what all it encompassed, and it’s our fault that we didn’t tell him about packs.  It was just a cure for his awkwardness, and a way for him to get over all his medical issues.  Hell, none of us expected him to be a Delta.  We figured he’d be an Omega, or a free wolf.  Instead, SURPRISE!  Delta,” Isaac said, huffing loudly.  “I..  I don’t believe in God anymore.  But damn have I been praying for him to move in with us.  I’d forgive God if he’d get me my Stiles to come home.  We all need him, but I feel like if he doesn’t come home soon, that I’m going to break,” he moaned quietly.  

On the inside, Stiles felt Isaac’s despair.  Like he was missing a chunk of his heart, and the hole was just getting bigger.

Swiles kissed Isaac on the head.  “It’s okay baby, everything will work out just fine,” he said quietly.

 

+

There was no point in denying Swiles anymore.  Everything he was saying was right.  Seeing Isaac’s hurt yesterday just made everything come home.  

Swiles wasn’t lying.  His pack needed him.  

Unfortunately, he had no idea HOW to help them, or WHY they needed him.  Whatever it was, it was all about him being a Delta.  

Which, thanks to a tight lipped Derek and inconsistent online research, left him with just the basic spill about Deltas being childbearers.  There had to be more.  Otherwise, his wolf wouldn't have come out and argued with him.

In the pursuit of knowledge, Stiles found himself across from Scott’s mother, Melissa McCall.  Basically a mother to him, Melissa hadn’t blinked an eye when he asked for a short talk.

Inside the local hospital's cafeteria, Stiles and Melissa were sharing a slice of strawberry pie on Melissa’s lunch hour, each of them with a large cola.  

Melissa, a woman in her early thirties with cascading black hair and a tanned skin similar to Scott’s, snagged the whip cream off to the top of their pie and popped it in her mouth.  

“So sweetie, what’s troubling you?” Melissa asked, smiling sweetly at Stiles.

Stiles took a deep breath.  “I need you to tell me what a Delta is, does, and what their role in the pack is.  I know you know, with as much medical training as you have,”

Melissa shifted uncomfortably.  Her smile faded.  

“Stiles…  This is something you should probably talk to-”

“Tell me,” Stiles said immediately, cutting her off.  He didn’t break eye contact.  “I can’t ask my dad, he doesn’t know anything about werewolves.  Derek would dance around the question, because he keeps treating me with kid gloves since I’m only a month old in werewolf terms.  That asshole Deaton would turn it into a riddle, and I’d end up ripping his throat out.  You’re a nurse and you took like half a year’s worth of werewolf courses after Scott was changed.  I know that you know,” he said shakily.  For whatever reason, there was a glaring pit in his stomach that wouldn’t go away.  It was icy, and only got colder with each day that passed since Isaac’s date.  

“Please,” Stiles begged.

Melissa took a deep breath, pushing the pie away to Stiles.  “I’m sure you’re aware of pack hierarchy,” she said.

Stiles nodded.  “Wolves make up a pack.  Alpha is the leader and their word is law.  In exchange for respect and order, Alphas protect their pack at the cost of their own lives  Betas are their warriors and provide for the pack financially.  Omegas are free wolves, who can come and go from a pack as they please, but generally act as emissaries and peacekeepers between packs.  They can be claimed into any pack consensually..  I know there are Deltas, Gammas, Zetas, and all other kinds of “special” wolves, but they’re pretty rare, right?  Like less than 5% of werewolf population?” he offered.

Melissa nodded.  “Packs don’t necessarily HAVE to have a Delta, Gamma, Zeta, or other specialized werewolf classes.  Werewolves who ARE these special classes generally have a genetic or psychological disposition that made them grow into their class.  The same thing happens to bitten werewolves.  Their past experiences in life, or their genetics can affect how they present,” she said.

“So what is a Delta?” Stiles asked immediately.

Slowly, Melissa stirred her soda with her straw.

“Deltas…  Are the childbearers,” Melissa said quietly.

Stiles felt his gut churn.  He’d known that much, Deaton had told him after the bite.  Though there had to be more.

“But they’re more than that.  Deltas are…  The tie that binds a pack together.  A link in a chain, if you will.  They’re the mother, the lover, the child bearer, and the keeper of peace and love for the pack.  They’re usually mated to the pack Alpha, and their word is respected as much as the Alpha.  Once a Delta has joined the pack, they can never leave without irreparable damage,” she offered.

A pain in Stiles’ stomach seemed to signify that.  Pain that was seriously growing the more he heard.

“For the Betas, the Delta is a lover and a means to bear children within the pack.  They NEED their Delta, since 90% of Betas will never mate within the pack, and might not ever have pups otherwise.  The Alphas, on the other hand, view the Delta as their soulbound mates.  Should the Delta die, it is not uncommon for the Alpha to die within a few weeks after.  Their hearts intertwine, and they act like lovebirds,” Melissa explained.  She bit her bottom lip tightly.  “The pack Delta is the pack’s everything.  They’d sooner all die than lose their Delta and would do anything for them.  That person has one of the most treasured roles in werewolf society.  Deltas are, quite literally, the heart of the pack,” she answered.

Stiles felt his heart thump loudly.  Derek.  Jackson.  Isaac.  Scott.  They all loved him in their own ways, and were in pain without him.  He’d become their heart.

“But the reverse is true as well,” Melissa said, shaking her head.  “Deltas need love to survive.  They need touch, love, admiration, and attention, or they can get very sick.  They MUST provide for the pack, it’s ingrained in their very fiber to be the pack’s rock that can weather any storm.  Denial of those base emotional needs or physical interactions would make them go feral, or worse,” she finished.

“What’s worse than going feral?” Stiles asked nervously.  That question seemed very relevant.

“Shadow Syndrome. The wolf and human would separate as entities and fight for supremacy.  If the wolf won, they’d be instinct-bound monsters and end up being feral.  If the human wins?  They’d be an emotionless shell, too afraid to let instinct ever win out.  A werewolf must be a balance of both their instinct and human self, or they are a very dangerous being,” she finished.

Stiles felt his head drop.

“So the Id or the Superego would control the brain.  Two ends of terrible extremes,” Stiles answered for her.

Melissa nodded.  “From a psychological perspective, I’d assume so.  I’ve never seen a Delta survive Shadow Syndrome.  Most of them committ suicide, rather than suffer either consequence.  I met one while I was on rotation as medical school for my training.  A Shadow Syndrome Delta, that is.  They looked crazed, yelling at thin air and blaming their other side.  It was…  Awful,” she mumbled.

Neither party spoke much for several minutes.  Stiles hadn’t bothered to look up, nor had Melissa pushed him.

At least, until the lunch rush finally ended, and the two of them were left alone in the eerily quiet cafeteria.

“What happens to the pack…  If the Delta is a fucking moron and didn’t do what they were supposed to do?” Stiles asked.

Melissa clenched her soda tightly.  “The pack’s Alpha would die of heartbreak and see themselves as a failure.  Afterwards, the pack would disperse, and any of them left would be rewarded with shreds for their hearts.  Depression would set in, a depression that couldn’t be treated with medicine.  I’m sure you’ve heard the term that wolves mate for life?  The same goes with the relationship between Deltas and their pack, and it would be impossible for the pack to ever bond the same way again.  They'd never experience love again as long as they lived,” she explained.

Stiles shook.

Melissa glanced away as she stood up and moved to Stiles’ side.  She pulled him into her, and hugged his body tightly.  “Stiles, you’re a Delta, aren’t you?  I've never bothered asking, because I know how rude that is, but...  You are, aren't you?” she asked.

Slowly, he nodded.  Stiles could feel Melissa’s heart sink.  

Naturally, she would worry.  Her son and Stiles were bonded.  Stiles was Scott’s Delta.  Losing either of them would be a heartbreak of nightmarish proportions.

“I’ll fix it,” Stiles answered.

Melissa held back tears, pressing a kiss into Stiles’ head.  

 

+

 

Going back home after visiting Melissa, Stiles shut the door to his bedroom.  He didn’t even have to call Swiles, as he was already standing in the middle of his room.  Unlike his usual nudity, Swiles was in the warm outfit he wore for Isaac’s date.

Stiles glared at his wolf.  He recalled Melissa's fearful words about the fight they might endure.

“I want us to be one,” Swiles said, folding his arms.  “We’ve both suffered enough.  We don’t need…  Anything else.  I don’t want to fight for supremacy, but I’m not going to let us suffer either,” he said grimly.

“Same,” Stiles answered back immediately.

“Do you believe me?  About everything?  About how we need to save our pack?” Swiles asked.

Stiles nodded.  “I think I always knew.  From the second I saw Danny’s video, I sort of…  Felt it.  I denied it, but I felt it.  I knew you were real, and that we were…  Connected.  As for the pack?  Well…  I figured as much,” he said, sighing painfully.

Swiles and Stiles collapsed onto their bed in a shared symmetry, landing on their pillows and staring up at the ceiling.

“How do I fix this?  Everything’s a fucking mess,” Stiles asked.

Swiles chuckled.  “I think we both know the first step to that,” he answered.

“Yeah…  Yeah, I guess I do,” Stiles grumbled.

“You want to tell dad, or me?  I’m pretty convincing,” Swiles said snarkily.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “If you fuck our dad, and if that’s ANYWHERE in my Id, I am going to exorcise the HELL out of you.  Or put icy hot on my balls before I go to sleep, that would show you!” he spat.

“You’re a dick.  And also, Dad?  Ew, no,” Swiles said, punching Stiles in the shoulder as hard as he could.  Which, oddly enough, was not that hard.

Stiles groaned, flipping around on his bed and groaning into his pillow.  “I’m going to be a fucking awful asshole pack member.  I can’t even stand to hug my own dad, how the fuck am I going to be the “heart” of the pack?!” he shouted.

Swiles threw his arm around Stiles, hugging him tightly.  “You’re going to be a great Delta.  We just need to learn how to communicate.  You know, make REALISTIC version of our desires?  I’m not asking you to get barefoot and pregnant with the pack’s pups right away, but just..  I dunoo..  Hand holding?  Maybe kissing on the cheek?  Just..  Just something that defrosts your melty heart.  Just let it-”

“If you quote Frozen, I am going to punch you in the kidneys, and it WILL hurt,” Stiles grumbled angrily.

“Fine.  Then lower your defenses a little at a time.  Let someone in and let them love you,” Swiles responded.

Stiles shook his head.  “I can’t do this.  I can’t…  I can’t…  I can’t let-”

Swiles pulled Stiles to his lips and kissed him deeply on the cheek.  Not a romantic or sexy kiss, but a gentle, warm kiss.  A kiss like his mother would have given him.  He stayed on his cheek for what seemed like hours, pepping his face with warm lips.  Until he finally came up for air and threw his arms around Stiles.

“She’s gone Stiles, and she’s not coming back.  But…  Derek and everyone in your pack?  Your dad? Melissa?  They’re here now.  It’s okay to let them in, Stiles.  It’s okay to love again,” Swiles explained, pecking another kiss on Stiles’ forehead.

Short tears streaked down Stiles’ cheeks.  “I can’t handle this…  I can’t,” he sobbed.

Swiles smiled.  “Then we’ll do it together,” he said, resting his head on Stiles’ neck.  “For tonight, we’ll just sleep.  No sex, no bonding, just…  Just let me be here for you.  Tomorrow, I’ll help you get through it.  We'll work together and comprimise,” he said quietly, in a soothing coo.  

Feeling his wolf pet him and hold him tightly allowed Stiles to gently fall into a deep sleep.

 

-

 

Jackson chose not to dress himself.  Whoever was BANGING on the door at 7 in the morning deserved to see his full monty.  If it were a door to door salesmen, he’d probably claw at him.  If it were girl scouts?  Well, then he’d probably be going to jail.  He really didn’t care, they were on HIS pack’s property.  

Running down the stairs to the Hale first floor, he growled as his packmates who were in the kitchen.  TOO LAZY to actually answer the fucking door, the pigs neck-deep in take out iHop, as USUAL.

He reached the front door and swung it open angrily.

“What the fuck do you wa- oh hey Stiles,” Jackson said, immediately covering his crotch with his hand.

Their pack Delta was standing in the front door, with a duffle bag under his arm.   

Stiles blushed wildly.  “Oh uh…  Sorry.  I know it’s early, but uh…  Dude, why are you naked?” he asked.

“Thought you were a asshole salesman again.  Same dick keeps coming around and around trying to sell us bullshit.  Whatever, you’ve seen me in the locker room!” Jackson shot back, attempting an angry tirade

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Can I come in please?” he asked.

"Come on in!" Jackson said, with an air of annoyance.  

Stiles did come in, b-lining for the sound of laughter and discussion coming from the living room.  

Jackson watched Stiles.  He was walking oddly, like his left foot and right foot were working on different brains.  Not to mention the nervous thuds in his heart.

+

Stiles walked through the kitchen, met with odd stares from his pack mates.

The guys were in various states of dress.  Derek was content to walk around in his briefs, drinking milk straight from the carton.  Scott wasn't much better, strutting in his boxer shorts that smelled of Jackson's sweat and cum.  Isaac was fully dressed in a warm brown seater and jeans, curled up with a book in the corner of the kitchen's wall-length window and letting the sun warm him up.

Derek grinned.  “Hey!  Come in, come in, we’ve got breakfast!” he shouted.

Putting down his duffle bag, Stiles immediately snagged up one of the 15 cartons of pancakes that were half-eaten.  His pack-mates were pigs.  Feeding them would be nothing short of a nightmare

“Thanks…  So uh…  How you guys doing?” Stiles asked, stuffing his face full of pancakes.

Scott rolled his eyes.  “Derek’s being an ass.  I’ve got a job at the the vet clinic, and he won’t let me contribute to the pack fund!” he shouted.

“I TOLD you that you can contribute AFTER you finish high school.  You’re eighteen, but I don’t expect you to provide for the pack while you’re doing part time.  Keep it,” Derek growled.

Isaac whined in the corner, slamming his book shut.  “STILES, they’re fighting again, and I’m trying to read, make them stop,” he begged.

Jackson growled at Scott and Derek.  “Shut the fuck up, both of you.  Stiles came to visit and you’re acting like assholes,” he spat.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!  I’ll yell at him all I want!” Scott shot back.

Stiles felt himself giggle.  They were all fighting like an old couple.  

The four pack members turned to Stiles, hearing his laughter.  

“Sorry, sorry…  It’s just FUNNY.  You guys act like…  Like married people,” Stiles said, coughing out chunks of pancakes as he laughed.

Derek scoffed.  “You’ve never seen a family fight?  God, this is CALM compared to how I fight with Laura and Cora.  Didn’t you and your family ever-” he said, immediately stopping mid sentence.  

All four looked like they’d just stepped on a puppy.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “No…  No, I never fought with my family.  Never had one to begin with, really.  Relax, all of you, I’m not offended,” he offered, sitting down at the family table.

The pack seemed to calm down, moving towards Stiles and hovering over him.  Still naked, Jackson didn’t even bother to cover himself anymore.  

“So uh..  What’s up?  Anything wrong?  You okay?  You’re not in trouble are you?” Jackson asked, as his heart raced ridiculously.

Stiles fiddled with his food for a few minutes.

 

_“I can tell them if you want.  Just let me in,” Swiles said to himself._

_“I’ve got this,” Stiles countered._

 

"I uh...  I kind of want to move in," he stumbled out of his mouth.

The table went deathly quiet.  

"If that's okay...  I talked to my dad about it, and he’s fine so long as I keep going to school and shit.  He knows it's werewolf shit, and besides, my dad's been getting pretty serious with Melissa and they’re going to need their space to start a new family, and I just...  I though you guys wouldn't mind.  I mean, we're pack, right?" Stiles said.

Derek’s body went stiff, and Stiles wondered if he’d actually paralyzed the man somehow.

"Uh...  And I'd be okay with the denmother thing.  I'll need some practice cooking, but..  I'm good at laundry and cleaning.  I’m totally fine with taking care of you guys.  Salary for house care?  Sounds pretty cool.  I mean, I get to be with like my best friends and take care of them?  Weird at first, but..  Hell, it’s a posh job,,” Stiles answered, laughing nervously.

 

_“I am so proud of my little human.  I think I’m going to cry!” Swiles whispered._

_“Shut the fuck up Swiles, I’m having a fucking moment here!  Don't make me come in there!" Stiles shot back mentally._

 

Stiles ignored Scott dropping a container of food in the background.  

“I’m starting to…  “Get” the whole pack thing?  So…  Might as well move in while I can, right?” Stiles chuckled.

Jackson had a noticable boner.

“Would someone please talk?” Stiles begged, watching as Isaac started to hide tears with his fluffy scarf.  

Stiles could feel the…  Actually, he had no idea how to describe it all.

Derek was smiling, not evening bothering to be the least bit subtle.  Stiles could smell the warmth of HOME coming from Derek.  A soft, familiar smell of his mother’s perfume.

Scott and Jackson were a little different.  They were smirking happily, and clearly aroused sexually.  Though they had control, and a new smell emanated from them.  The urge to protect Stiles.  He felt them hover even closer, resisting the urge to try and hold him tightly.

Derek nodded.  "Of course.  When do you want to move in?  We can make a day of it today if you like?" he asked calmly.  He did a piss-poor job of hiding his childlike glee behind his serious fuzz face and beaming smile.  

Jackson was the first one up.  

"Come on, you can pick out your bedroom, Derek's got like three floors of empty rooms.  I’ll shower, dress, and then buy you some shit for it.  Since, you know, your stuff sucks.  My dad has a card with no limit.  I’ll just say I’m buying shit for my room.  Not that they care,” he said, grabbing Stiles by the arm and pulling him out of the bedroom.

Scott was a close second.  “I’ll get dressed!  Then I’ll go grab your crap from the house, I know where the boxes are!  Derek, I’m taking the van!” he shouted, rushing past Stiles and Jackson, and up the stairs as though he were on fire.

“I’ve got your stuff Stiles!” Isaac said, running through the kitchen and snagging the duffle bag, hugging it as though it contained diamonds.  

Derek waited momentarily, until the excitement was too much.  Stomping through the kitchen, he snagged his smartphone and immediately typed into it.

 

_Derek:  Stiles moved in.  We’re getting his stuff set up now._

 

The reply took all of one minute.

_  
Peter:  Excellent.  I was worrying.  My visit should be shorter now. _


	4. Chapter 4

Being a denmother turned out to be second nature.  Stiles assumed it was his complete instinct kicking in, brought on early by being in the same house with his pack.  

Though it wasn’t that much different than taking care of his dad.

Just with a hell of a lot more cooking.

He woke up as soon as the sun was up every day, and would run downstairs to start breakfast for the pack.  That was his job, at least, and he got about $1,000 dollars a week to do it, so he definitely needed to do it right.  

At first, he’d just ordered IHOP take out most mornings and drove to pick it up, but eventually moved to attempting to cook.  Getting take out felt wrong, and his insides only felt “right” when he had bacon sizzling on a frying pan.  

Unfortunately, feeding 4 bottomless pits was a lot more challenging than feeding his seriously depressed father.

He burnt pretty much everything for three days straight thanks to the massive portions he was trying to wrangle, but by the fourth day, he could at least make a plate of meat the size of Derek’s chest.  By the second week, he’d mastered eggs the way everyone liked it.  Three weeks in, and he could take requests from the pack the night before.  Though most of them just preferred platters of bacon with eggs.  

Werepigs apparently needed their protein in heart-attack proportions.

School life was still a thing, but it was a new thing.  Scott and Jackson NEVER left his side, and would fuck anyone up with angry glares if they got close to him.  Even Lydia and Danny had been under tight scrutiny, but cleared after Stiles’ many complaints.  Isaac was more helpful with homework, and became his personal tutor during their free study hall hour.  Derek didn’t attend high school, and hadn’t for over five years, but would show up once or twice a week to bring Stiles lunch.  

After school, Stiles found himself constantly busy, suddenly grateful he’d never been all that involved in extracurricular activities.

Taking care of his were-pigs were different for all of them involved.

Derek would get home from his job at his auto shop, coming in covered in oil and sweat.  Stiles refused to let him come in like that (after three days of force-treating oil stains out of the carpet), forcing the Alpha to strip at the front door, and would fight with the washing machine to get the worst of the grime out.  He found a violent way of swearing at their stupid washing machine to work harder, leaving many dents in the front of it.  Though he always got a bright smile out of Derek when he’d have clean jumpsuits on his bed by the evening hours.  It was well worth the hours of care.  

Besides Derek’s oil issues, Stiles found that Derek had a massive fetish with books and literature.  His room was made up of just his bed, bookshelves, books, and closet.  Stiles had spent the better part of his free time hanging up Derek’s clean clothes, that he would have otherwise just chunked in a corner until he’d need them.  The books though?  They were organized by author, genre, and didn’t have as much as a crease in them.  A Kindle was perched on Derek’s bed, which Stiles noticed had a hundred plus already read books on it.  

Stiles certainly didn’t the “well-read” vibe from Derek, but that was obviously what he was.  Besides the usual fiction (Sci-Fi and modern-time fantasy seemed to be his favorites), Derek had just as many non-fiction works.  Biographies, books on psychology, leadership, and even “The Art of War” were among the most read.

It was for that reason that Stiles always picked up a book at the grocery store, and subtly tucked them on Derek’s pillows every Thursday afternoon when it was Derek’s turn to have a full room cleaning.  

Stiles often got an extra kiss on the head Friday mornings, and a brief explanation of why Derek did or did not like the book.  Apparently, the reading fetish were-pig enjoyed staying up all nights of the hour to finish a book.

 

The messiest of the were-pigs, as Stiles would soon find out, was without a doubt Scott.

Scott couldn’t keep anything clean.  He was a tornado that came in and made everything a mess every afternoon after Lacrosse practice.  Melissa had been right to warn him, he really was a messy puppy.  The second Scott walked into the house, he was down to his boxers in half a second, leaving a trail of clothes as he would run into the kitchen for leftovers, quickly followed up by a visit to the living room for an xbox marathon.  Stiles just picked up the clothes, there was no point in trying to tell his friend what a pain in the ass he was, and would clean the kitchen mildly after Scott finished his after-school “snack”, knowing it would get messy whenever Derek came through after work as well.  

Had he mentioned how much the were-pigs needed their protein? 

Though Scott’s room was a different story altogether, bordering on Stiles nearly decapitating his friend's head.  For the first two days, Stiles had to scrub EVERYTHING with a duster and high-end cleaning product to get rid of the mold and sticky spots from dropped food and spilled sodas.  He chose not to think about the various stains on Scott’s sheets, and threw them through the washing machine with bleach TWICE.  Organizing the closet and drawers took another full afternoon, because just like Derek, Scott apparently had an all-encompassing fear of hangers or underwear organization.

Finally, he had a respectable room that Stiles inspected daily.  Unlike the other were-pigs who only had a weekly cleaning, Stiles had made a very special case for Scott.  There was no way in hell he would ever let it get that bad again, and Scott, despite his MANY promises, was the kind of person who would let it happen again.

Just like Derek, Stiles was surprised to learn more about his best friend than he thought he knew.  The only spot in Scott’s room that Stiles hadn’t bothered to touch was his desk.  Homework was neatly organized, as were his stay at home textbooks and half-dozen binders.  

He’d never figured it, but Scott actually had a lot of difficulty with his classes, and could barely keep a B in his regular (non-AP) classes.  Stiles would always go by, and watch his best friend spend 3 or more hours studying and doing extra homework just to keep up with everyone else.  

It didn’t take long to see why.  

Various veterinary college brochures were neatly pinned on the wall just above his desk, acting as (at least what Stiles assumed) incentives.  Scott had been working for Dr. Deaton since he’d been sixteen, and everyone with half a brain knew he wanted to succeed Deaton as the town’s local vet.  

Stiles felt obligated by an odd feeling in his gut to come through once or twice a night, bringing Scott a snack or some kind words of encouragement as he folded the pig’s laundry.

 

Surprisingly enough, it was Jackson who was the cleanest.  In fact, he was the only one in the house that pre-sorted his laundry for Stiles, and kept his room neat to lessen his work.  Which was odd, considering that Jackson had always told them growing up that he had a maid that took care of all of his messes.  

Nonetheless, Stiles was pleased to have at least ONE of his packmates being responsible, only needing to really focus on Jackson’s bathroom.

Which, in retrospect, was probably why Jackson did keep his room so clean.  Because his bathroom across the hall took up all the mess otherwise.

Jackson left towels on the floor, or flung wherever he deigned to leave them.  He had more hair care products and personal body lotions than Lydia Martin, all of which he left out and open, to glob up the counters and stink up the place.  Stiles didn't bother to even think about the "personal care" products left in the medicine cabinent.  

Oh, and Jackson had enough lube to survive the apocalypse's sex needs.

His lacrosse gear, jockstrap included, was never left in the hamper, and often shoved in the sink whenever Jackson would get home from practice in order to shower.  The smell was overbearing, as Jackson sweated more than all the team combined and just had a natural musk that made him dry-heave.  Stiles had finally forced himself into getting a special hamper JUST for Jackson’s sweaty gear, because the one time he had mixed it with Scott’s dirty clothes, they all came out of the dryer smelling like Jackson’s crotch.

Eventually, even the private hamper wasn’t enough to keep the smell away, and Stiles had FINALLY begged for Jackson to politely put his stinky gear right in the washer when he got home for practice.  

In exchange for that, Stiles always kept Jackson’s secret sweet tooth sated.  

He’d figured it out after inspecting Jackson’s drawers and finding 30 or so double sized Three Musketeer Bars, and just as many wrappers.  Once, he actually found a half-eaten strawberry cheesecake in Jackson’s bathroom, to which Jackson would NEVER admit was his.  

Stiles and Jackson never said anything about it, but Jackson always seemed to be nicer to Stiles after finding a basket of sweets on his made up bed every morning.

 

Isaac relished having Stiles in the house.  While he wasn’t as messy as Scott, Isaac had a hard time picking up after himself.  It wasn’t a day that Stiles didn’t find Isaac’s clothes and towels over his bathroom and bedroom, or his half-eaten plate of food still on the table long after dinner.  Isaac was also the type to make complicated coffee concoctions, and leave out all the ingredients lined up on the counter, where they’d drip chocolate all over the place.

Stiles didn't get angry about it.  He knew that Isaac being messy was a huge step forward for the youngest pup in the pack.

He'd heard the stories.  Isaac's father would beat him into submission anytime that ANYTHING was out of place.  Whippings, physical abuse, and just about everything in the book.  Not that keeping everything clean was much better.  When he did everything "right", Isaac would be "rewarded" with a night in his father's room. 

Those stories were brought back up as Isaac finally asked for Stiles' assistance in a more private matter.  

Isaac showed Stiles his many scars over his chest and back, explaining that his wolf healing hadn't been strong enough to withstand the abuse his father gave to him, and had been forbidden from trying to heal the marks.  Eventually, they scarred and became a natural part of his body.

Still, he wanted them GONE.

So every night, just after finishing dinner, Stiles and Isaac would go into Isaac’s room.  Isaac would remove his shirt, and Stiles would gently pour a medicated product into Isaac’s back and rub the lotion in gently.  It was a special blend of herbs that Deaton had made, which aided healing, and that actually began making the scars fade into obscurity.

There wasn’t anything sexual about the act, and Stiles never once tried to make it like that.  They never spoke during the sessions, and as soon as Stiles was done, he’d leave Isaac in peace to go right to bed.  

 

Though the thing Stiles found the most rewarding was the pack itself.  Having spent the previous 9 years coming home to an empty house and living on his own independence, Stiles’ personal privacy had been voided almost instantly as he’d moved in.

There was no escaping his were-pigs, and he was starting to be okay with that.

Scott, when not playing video games or studying, was on Stiles like a tick.  He followed around and tried to “help”, but mostly just chewing the fat or gossiping about whatever shit had been said in the locker rooms after practice.  Stiles was never bored while he did laundry or the dishes.

Then there was Jackson, who was always buying him things.  Clothes were the most popular, usually the name-brand stuff that Stiles had never been able to afford on his own.  Stiles’ once 10 or 11 sized wardrobe soon became a complete clothes-a-palooza.  Jeans, hoodies, sweaters, scarves, 20 or more different shoes, jackets, trenchcoats, and about one of every article of men’s clothing.  Lydia had even complimented Stiles' change in wardrobe.

Isaac was a clinger.  Whether it be TV, a night out at the movies, or even in the backseat of Derek’s camaro, Stiles always had Isaac clinging to him in a warm hug, nuzzling and scenting platonically.  Once or twice, Stiles swore he heard Isaac telling Scott to “stop making mom work so hard”.  

Naturally, Derek made Stiles feel warm and welcome into their home.  He was obsessed with making sure Stiles knew this was HIS home now, just as much as the pack’s.  Which mean that Derek was the first one to help Stiles re-plant his mother’s tomato plants in the backyard.  He was also the one who had an iron bench fashioned from a local artist, engraving “Claudia Stilinksi, Mother, Wife, Angel” in gold on the front.  They’d all placed it next to the ever-growing spice garden that Stiles had been working more and more in.

 

Everything felt so warm, domestic, and otherwise pleasant.  

It was a warmth he hand’t had since his mom died.  As hard as his dad tried, their home had always been such a cold place.  

Here?  

It was perfect.

It was home.

 

+

 

Humming pleasantly, Stiles wiped off one of the many dishes he’d been working on.  His new recipe for fried chicken and smashed potatoes had been a massive hit, keeping leftovers to a minimum of just one small tupperware container.

All alone in the house, Stiles could hear himself humming, and smiled eagerly.  As happy as he was making the pack leave with full bellies and a contented moan, it was just going to get better soon.

The pack had gone out to pick up milkshakes, popcorn, and a movie for their Saturday night “puppy pile”, leaving Stiles a moment of rare privacy.

Which, much to his own surprise, made him want to do dishes.  There was something about having a clean den that gave Stiles the shivers.  The same kind of shivers he’d get from acing a math test with 100% and having done it without a calculator.

“Enjoying yourself?” Swiles asked.

Stiles didn’t even flinch in surprise.  He’d gotten used to his wolf popping up, and they’d managed to tolerate each other’s presence in the previous weeks.  In fact, Swiles hadn’t even hijacked his body in a few weeks.  Not that he had any appointments, the pack hadn’t called him for an “evening” since Stiles moved in.  Stiles took that as a sign that Swiles AND his pack were pleased with his progress as the pack’s Delta.

He kept washing the plate, scrubbing off the ketchup obsession that Scott had with half of his food.  

“Eh, it’s nice.  Feels good coming home to a full house.  Even better when the were-pigs get all cuddly when they’re food-drunk off their asses,” Stiles said, smiling at the fond recollection of Derek actually unbuttoning his jeans to make more “room”.  He'd never say it, but Derek had gotten mildly tubbier.

Swiles leaned against the fridge, fiddling with his scarf.  “Well aren’t you just a little domestic?  Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to give in to your Delta vibes so quickly.  Here I was expecting weeks of you fighting with the were-pigs to clean up themselves, only actually giving in after one of them gave you the puppy eyes,” he replied sarcastically.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “That only works with Scott and Isaac.  Jackson and Derek just do that weird eyebrow thing until they realize that their shit is SO not going to fly!” he replied.

Nodding, Swiles smiled, hopping off the fridge and moving closer to Stiles.  “So…  Have you figured out how they feel about you yet?  I’ve been curious on how oblivious you really are,” he asked.

“I’m just as curious on how many dicks you’ve had in your mouth and ass, but you don’t see me asking!” Stiles responded, giving up on Scott’s plate and just chucking it in the dishwasher.  He moved onto Derek’s drinking glass, smelling his Alpha’s rustic metal and oil workday scent emenating off it.

“42, now your turn to spill,” Swiles answered (in an obvious lie), folding his arms.

“Oh my GOD, our poor ass!” Stiles sobbed, shaking his head as he threw Derek’s glass into the washer, and reaching for the Dawn tabs to throw in the machine.  He shut the machine door, and pressed the start button before turning to meet Swiles’ eyes.

“Derek’s in love with me.  Like hard-core “I want to marry you YESTERDAY Stiles” kind of love.  Jackson and Scott don’t feel the same way, they’re more like overprotective big brothers, but definitely have their eyes on my ass.  I’m guessing it’s what Melissa said about them being the pack Betas and not being able to find a lover any other way.  They probably want pups, or are expiring that natural urge.  Isaac is like totally different than any of them, and likes me as his mom, zero interest in my ass whatsoever.  Did I get it right?  Do I get to go into double jeopardy?” Stiles explained, jumping up and down in a sarcastic giddiness.

Swiles scoffed.  “Well well, he’s not a complete idiot.  How remarkable.  Now how are you going to proceed?” he asked.

Stiles froze.  He glanced away, finding himself busy as he grabbed a paper towel and disinfecting spray to clean off the kitchen counters.  “I uh…  I thought I’d just keep going like we are?  I mean, is it really all that bad?  We’re pretty damn close now, right?” he asked.

Swiles followed his superego, sighing as he went into a panicked cleaning spree.

“This isn’t helping you, just being a denmother.  Sure, it’s making your pack happy, but you’re not advancing anything for yourself,” Swiles said annoyingly.

Stiles turned around, holding a dirty towel in his hand.  “Excuse me?” he asked.

Rolling his eyes, Swiles moved beside his human self, and flicked him on the nose.  “Good first step by moving in.  Hell, I’m proud of you for being cutesy with all of them and the baby-type flirting, but now you’re just back to your old self.  Taking care of people and giving them love, but not getting anything else in return.  You’ve at least kept your pack together, but YOU are still not fixed!  That’s why I’m still here, asshole,” he explained.

“So what do you want me to do?!  Put on some lacy panties and put my ass in the air when the guys get back?!” Stiles offered, gyrating his hips inappropriately.

“Maybe in a few months, but right now, no.  Besides, I think Isaac would go into a coma if you did that,” Swiles laughed.  He shook his head.  “Do something special for each of your pack mates.  A kiss, a hug, just something that shows you care.  They’re all in a relationship together and are dying for you to be in it too,” he said.

Stiles laughed.  “Oh, and about THAT?!  What the fuck does that even mean?  I thought I knew what that meant with Isaac, but besides Jackson and Scott having sex together when they think I’m far enough away from the house, none of them even touch eact other!” he shouted.

“Ah yes, the morally judgemental superego hard at work, very nice,” Swiles said, clapping playfully.  “Dipshit, polyamory isn’t about 10 people being in love with each other and having constant orgy sex.  That’s called SWINGING.  Polyamory is just an intimate relationship between one or more people,” Swiles explained.

“INTIMATE!” Stiles shot back.

“My god you’re stupid.  Intimate just means CLOSE, you fucking moron.  It’s synonymous with confidant.  Hell, you, Danny and Lydia would probably be “intimate” friends.  Do you even have a dictionary?  How the hell would you even pass a SAT?” Swiles spat.

Calming down somewhat, Stiles looked at Swiles carefully.

“Do you even see how Derek looks at Isaac and how close they get at times?  He wants to be a proper father figure for Isaac, and probably said as much.  He’s Daddy to Isaac,” Swiles said, stepping closer to Stiles.  “Jackson and Scott are probably just fuck buddies, considering that they’re in the same boat.  Betas who can’t get in a relationship thanks to their duty to the pack, and are just waiting for their pack Delta to “assist” them with their problem.  They’re basically like Derek’s annoying little brothers and guardians all in one,” he said, cupping Stiles’ face with both his hands.  “They’re waiting on you.  You’re “mommy” to Isaac, a husband for Derek, and a partner for Scott and Jackson that they’d otherwise never have.  You’re a Delta.  You are the tie that will complete the pack’s family and their needs,” he said warmly.  

Stiles pushed Swiles away.

“I..  I don’t know…  Things are going well now.  I’m feeling comfortable like this!  Why fuck that up?!” Stiles answered.

Swiles hopped up on the counter, huffing as he was clearly frustrated.  “Stiles, love isn’t about being comfortable.  Love is nervous, love is fearful, and love is…  Love is a lot of things.  But comfortable?  It’s not that right off the bat,” he answered with a bright smile. for dinner after work.  

“DUDE, WE’RE BACK!” Scott yelled at the front door.

The pack scrambled into the kitchen, all holding various milkshakes, and Derek with a grocery bag full of popcorn in his arms.

Stiles glanced behind him, met with nothing but invisible air.

All of the pack stopped at the entryway to the kitchen.

“Do you smell that?” Isaac asked, sniffing carefully.  

Stiles laughed carefully, pushing them all out of the kitchen and towards the massive leather couch.

  
  


+

 

Scott was first on Stiles’ list.  He’d probably be the easiest, given that he probably already had loved Scott since the third grade.  Not in a sexual way, but as a best friend and practical brother.  They’d been closer than Stiles had been with his own father.  It made sense.  

Like any other Wednesday after school, Stiles knocked on the door to Scott’s room.  “Scott, can I come in?” he asked quietly.  

“It’s open!” Scott announced back eagerly.

Picking up his laundry basket, Stiles swung the door open and stepped inside.  Like Scott’s original bedroom growing up, it was a pretty plain affair.  Oak furniture, a messy un-made bed with sheets rumpled everywhere, and an oversized TV that had a paused session of Halo on the screen.

Scott was at his desk, neck deep in Chemistry homework.

“How’s it going?  Harris murdering you?  Should I call Derek?” Stiles said playfully, placing the laundry basket down on the floor and bending down to scoop up the clothes that virtually covered the floor since last Wednesday.  

Groaning, Scott slammed his forehead on the wooden desk.  “I am a fucking idiot Stiles.  If I can’t get BASIC HIGH SCHOOL CHEMISTRY, how the hell am I going to get through tough shit in college?” he said darkly.  Non-ironically, Scott slipped out of his chair and slumped into the floor in a heap.  

Stiles stopped picking up Scott’s clothes and sniffed the air.  This wasn’t normal whiny Scott who begged Stiles for extra slices of pie after dinner.  This was a genuine sour smell emanating from his friend.  He moved over to Scott plopping down on the floor and leaning on his buddy.

“The same way you do it now.  And you’ll probably be a thousand times better off than anyone else there,” Stiles said brightly.

Scott leaned up from his heap, facing his friend.  “Huh?” he asked curiously, cocking his head in genuine confusion.

Laughing, Stiles shook his head, putting his arm around Scott and pulling him closer.  “Okay, so like…  For most people, they don’t study as hard as you do.  They have like shitty study schedules and maybe do one or two hours at MOST.  Me?  I’m like a thirty minute kind of guy,” he explained.  

“Gee, thanks,” Scott said, nudging Stiles’ neck with his face.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  

“So totally not what I was going for.  What I was GOING to say is that you’ve got study skills most people would KILL to have.  I see how hard you work, and dude, college is going to be second nature to you.  But for people who don’t act like that?  It’s going to be hell for them.  Dude, you’re already like 120 levels ahead of everyone else.  You’re going to ROCK THAT SHIT,” Stiles said, nudging Scott right back.

After a few moments, realization hit Scott’s face.  

“College is like 80% studying and cramming and 20% booze.  You’re going to be FINE,” Stiles said, gently planting a kiss on Scott’s face.  He didn’t even need to prep, it felt…  Natural.  There wasn’t anything inherently sexual about it either.  More like…  Something bigger than friendship or brotherhood, without being lovers.  

Though Scott was on full overload, turning a pale shade of pink.

“Quit worrying Scotty.  You’re going to get tonight’s homework, you’re going to get homework you do a year from now, and you’re always going to be aggravated.  So don’t worry about it,” Stiles said warmly.  

Standing up, Stiles ruffled Scott’s hair and went back to picking up clothes around Scott’s room.  Once his basket was full, Stiles looked back to Scott.  

His friend was already back to work on his homework, tapping his pencil annoyingly at whatever problem he was working on.  

“Want me to bring you some popcorn chicken for a snack?  Maybe some protein would help you focus?” Stiles offered.

Scott nodded.

“Thanks…  Stiles,” he mumbled quietly.

It didn’t take a mirror to know that Scott was still flushed.

"Not a problem," he replied.

"Just so you know?" Scott said, stopping Stiles before he exited.  "I'm like...  Really glad you moved in.  Stuff feels...  Right?  The pack's complete now...  Well, for now now, not forever now, but...  You know what I mean," he grumbled.

"I feel it too," Stiles responded.  Stiles smiled fondly, turning around and secretly praying that Derek hadn’t had a snack attack and eating the last of their frozen chicken as he shut the door behind him.

Though he wasn't a few steps outside SCott's shut door when realization hit him.  

Groaning, Stiles facepalmed.  "I did not just seriously kiss Scott into doing his homework.  Oh my God, my Delta brain is frying me and turning me into an over-doting mother.  I'm becoming a sap.  A big ol' sap tree that leaks maple syrup," he said, becoming flushed himself as he trotted down the staircase, choosing to hold off on anymore "intimacy" until at least tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

Intimacy with Isaac was still WAY down on Stiles’ list.  Not that he was nervous about it, but mostly because he and Isaac still shared the unspoken “we don’t talk about the rape and beatings” agreement.  He wasn’t sure how to breach the subject and still keep it on Isaac’s realm of control.  He knew it was the only way to really “bond” with Isaac

Jackson would have been the second choice, if he wasn’t out with his parents touring colleges and not be back until the day before Peter’s visit in the upcoming week.

Which left…  

Derek.

Stiles had been pacing back and forth in the the kitchen since Derek got home and shucked off his work clothes.  

He knew, as the Delta, he’d be mated to Derek eventually.  Melissa had been pretty specific about it.  Not to mention the little fact that Derek hired Swiles to sleep with him so he didn’t accidentally go after Stiles on his own, possibly against his well.  

Derek wanted him.

Hell, even Stiles wanted Derek.

He’d quit lying to himself even before he got the bite.  Derek was Hunky McDreamypants and Stiles would have given his left testicle for a date.  Though now that Derek actually WANTED him, all those annoying insecurities were back with a vengeance.

_“Isaac is at Danny’s studying.  Jackson is gone with his parents.  Scott is having dinner with his mom and staying the night at her place.  Tonight’s the night.  Tonight is the ONLY night. Just take a deep breath…  Don’t think about his perfectly sculpted ass, or his massive dick, or how flawlessly hairy he is and OH MY GOD I HAVE A BONER,” Stiles thought, slamming his head repeatedly against the refrigerator._

“Stiles?  Everything okay?” Derek asked.

Spinning around, Stiles had to visibly gulp.  Derek was still sopping wet in the head from his shower.  Like pretty much every other day, he’d thrown on his skin tight briefs that did NOTHING to hide his perfect assets.  A towel was around his shoulders, and his body hair was lying flat on his chest from the dampness.

“DEREK.  HI!  YES.  ALL THE THINGS ARE OKAY,” Stiles responded, laughing out of place and making a complete goober out of himself.

 

_“Oh my God, how do we share a brain?!” Swiles exclaimed from the inside._

 

Derek cocked his eyebrows.  “Okay…  So..  Any thoughts on dinner?  Everyone’s out, so I hate to make you cook,” he explained.

Calming down as Derek moved to the table to sit, Stiles took a deep breath.  “Uh, actually.  Would you like maybe want to potentially maybe…  Go out?” he asked, turning away to hide his hyperventilation.  Not that he could actually hyperventilate anymore, being a werewolf and all, but it was the thought that counted.

“I’d like that very much,” Derek answered.

Slipping on nothing, Stiles spun around immediately.  He was met with the biggest shit eating grin that Derek had ever put on.  Those lips HAD to be illegal.  They were panty-removing teeth arranged in a grin that could make anyone bend over for that hunky werewolf.

HAPPY DEREK HALE WAS TOO MUCH.

“Oh!  Cool!  Well then…  Uh, where’d you oh my god why are you so close to me,” Stiles said, laughing nervously as Derek had stood up and moved over to him.  There was barely an inch between them.  

“But…  I only want to go out with you if this means what I think it means.  Stiles, are you attracted to me?” Derek asked, putting his arms around Stiles’ waist.  “Because I am very attracted to you, and holding out these last couple of weeks has made me a very antsy wolf.  I know it’s selfish, but I really want us to work,” he said, putting on that same playful grin that made Stiles’ ass leak profusely.  

Pretty much any werewolf could probably smell his arousal a mile away.

 

_“No fucking way.  DEREK FREAKING HALE DOES NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO LIKE ME LIKE ME.  NOPE, THE NOPE TRAIN IS LEAVING THE STATION RIGHT NOW.  THIS IS WHERE HE SAYS HE IS JOKING AND SLAPS ME,” Stiles screamed on the inside._

_Swiles was laughing ridiculously inside their soul.  “Oh my god, you are so cute when you’re flushed and horny.  TELL HIM YES YOU GOOBER!” he screeched._

Stiles gulped.  “Uh…  Yeah, I like you.  I’m very attracted to you and your ass.  I MEAN, Uh…  Oh, fuck,” he said, covering his eyes in abject embarrassment.  

Hearty Derek laugh was a real thing and Stiles wanted to hear more of it.  

“Oh, wow.  So I wasn’t expecting to hear THAT, but good..  This is very good…” Derek said, pulling Stiles close and nuzzling his tiny head under his fuzzy beard.  

Things felt so GOOD.

At least, until he started picturing everything that could go wrong or what was actually wrong.  Being practically enslaved to Derek and the pack, wondering if they actually loved him or just needed him on a base instinct level.  Was he just a person to feel their needs?  Why would anyone love him otherwise?  Was he just a warm hole to have dicks shoved up?  

Fuck, his brain always fucked everything over.

Still, things felt GOOD.  He smelled the love from Derek, which made his insecurities all that more painful.

Until Derek pulled away.

“You’re nervous.  Scared.  Why are you hurting?” Derek asked, clutching Stiles as though he were the boy’s large meat shield to protect him from any harm.

Stiles looked away.  “I…  I’m not good with shit like this.  Being…  Close,” he answered, blushing as he felt Derek’s groin against his own.

Backing off, Derek held up his hands.  “Oh…  oh, I’m so sorry.  That was-”

Stiles shook his head.  “No, its fine!  I just… I can’t go that fast!  I mean, I’m crazy attracted to you and your peach ass, but…  Then I’ve only actually KNOWN YOU for like…  A few weeks.  I mean, we’ve been friends for a while, but damn I’ve just now only-”

It was Derek’s turn to interrupt Stiles, covering the boy’s mouth.  “We take it slow.  I get it.  I’m fine with that.  How about we start with a nice dinner for two.  My treat, at Angelo’s?” he asked warmly.

With his mouth still covered, Stils nodded.

  
  


+

 

Angelo’s was the nicest Italian restaurant in town.  Actually, it was more like a bistro-styled restaurant with the white linens, lit candles, and warm earth tones all around them.  

Stiles had on one of the nice blazers Jackson had bought for him, including a warm red scarf and his nicest Jeans.

Derek, on the other hand, wore what he wore pretty much every day.  A henley and jeans.  Not that Stiles was complaining, the view was remarkable.

The waitress came by, nearly tripping over herself as she was mesmerized by his chest.  In fact, she nearly dumped the pitcher of water all over Stiles, at least had Derek not catch her as she fell.

After composing herself, the waitress apologized.  

“Sorry, so sorry!  What would you two like to drink?” she asked quietly.  

Stiles started to open his mouth, until Derek took over.

“We’ll both have a Merlot and a glass of iced tea, unsweeten.  The house special please, and bring out two fresh salads, italian dressing,” Derek said, handing both their menus to the waitress.

She nodded her confirmation and left after writing down the orders.

It was all of ten seconds later that Derek groaned under his breath

“I am so sorry…  That’s my Alpha instinct being a bitch and wanting to provide, and I just…  Sorry, I can call her-”

Stiles snorted loudly, laughing as Derek’s face was a mixture of flush and embarrassment.

“It’s fine!  Oh my god, you’re actually embarrassed!  DAMN I wish I had a camera!” he exclaimed.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Oh shut up,” he answered, waving away the thought of him being adorable.

“So uh..  Can I ask you something super awkward?  I’ve been waiting when the pack wasn’t around to ask, and I guess now’s a good of time as any,” he asked.

Stiles nodded.  “Sure, shoot,” he said, picturing what Derek’s mind was cooking up.

“I ran into your dad, he had a headlight out in his squad car,” Derek explained.

Stiles cringed.  It didn’t take him long to know exactly where this discussion was going.

“I’m uh…  I’m a little worried on two major accounts.  The first being that he had no idea you’d moved out, and you've been with us for weeks now.  The second being that he didn’t seem to care.  Actually, all he said was “oh, that explains why I don’t get breakfast anymore” and then tried to strike up a conversation about last week's football game,” Derek said, folding his arms and cocking up an eyebrow.

Laughing nervously, Stiles picked up his glass of water and drinking greedily.  

“Stiles, the water will run out eventually,” Derek said, noting how slowly Stiles was drinking.  

With a loud groan, Stiles put the glass away.

“So…  I guess you might think it’s not normal, but I might not have talked to my day in about…  Six months?” Stiles said, trying to smile away the awkwardness.

Derek’s eyes said it all.  “Six…  Months?  Stiles, you live in the same HOUSE.  How is that possible?” he asked.

Stiles’ face dropped by a mile.  He grabbed his silverware and fiddled with them mindlessly.  “We fell apart after mom died.  Dad didn’t want to talk about it.  I wanted to talk about it.  So dad quit talking to me, so he didn’t have to talk about it.  So I pretty much grew up alone since I was 9,” he answered, taking a deep breath.  “Dad was depressed, but wouldn’t admit it.  He self-medicated with alcohol off-duty.  Definitely an alcoholic, but nobody ever suspected it, since he kept it in the house.  Basically lived on the couch when he wasn’t at work in a drunken stupor.    I don’t think we spent more than an hour together most days.  When I could drive by myself, I...  I didn't even really need to see him anymore,” he explained.

Derek's horror-stricken eyes said it all.  “Damn.  “I have 20 brothers and sisters.  My mom’s big on having big packs.  I’m the third oldest, and I’ve got two little nieces, and I....  I can’t imagine…  Holy shit Stiles, HOW did you survive being alone?!” he exclaimed.

Stiles shrugged.  “You get used to it,” he replied.

“Well, that’s not happening ever again.  Stiles, this summer, we’re going to my mom’s house, and I PROMISE that you’ll never have a moment of peace and privacy again as long as you live!  You'd don't ever have to be alone, ever again,” Derek said warmly, with a curved smile.

“Pfft, I don’t have a moment of peace and privacy in my new home anyway!  I’m pretty sure you assholes have seen me take a shit,” Stiles exaggerated, putting a smile back on his face.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “No, but seriously, my folks are dying to meet you guys.  I don’t think you realize how big of a deal you guys are, and how much she's dying to meet her oldest son's pack,” he said excitedly.

Stiles felt his heart drop again.  

 _“Of course they’d be excited.  They have a fresh new babymaker.  Wolves love babymakers,”_ Stiles thought to himself.

“Yeah…  I guess I’ll just have to get used to this,” Stiles said, glancing away.  He pictured himself barefoot and pregnant in Derek’s house, getting poked and prodded by his family..

“Used to what?” Derek asked immediately.  He must have sensed Stiles' darker thoughts, grabbing his hand from across the table and squeezing it.

Stiles shrugged, a little deflated.  “I mean…  I sort of know more about the Delta thing.  It means that you and I have to be mated, right?  Then like…  Get pregnant all the time?   It’s just a lot to get used to,” he said.  

If given the option between going insane and not going insane, he’d take the latter.  He’d seen people go insane.  It’s how his mother died.  Her brain shrunk on the frontal lobe, and went into dementia.  The last day Stiles saw her, she didn’t even know who he was.  Insanity was painful, for both the person afflicted and the people around them.  No thanks.  Forcible mating was preferable.

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked.

Stiles’ ears flickered.

“Uh.  Delta is the Alpha’s mate?  Has to be intimate or they lose their shit?  Isn’t that a thing?” Stiles asked.

Derek laughed.  “Whoever told you that, or whatever website you read that on was either lying or very misinformed.  The pack Delta does not have to mate with the Alpha.  Can you imagine how cruel that would be to never have a say?  My aunt is our pack’s Delta, but she’s married to Peter, our pack’s Beta,” he responded.

“Wait…  Betas can be with other people?!” Stiles exploded.

Derek shot Stiles a very quizzical look.  “Uh, yes?  How the fuck would packs get any bigger if the Betas couldn’t mate?  Generally, they’ll get married later in life, when the pack is bigger and has more Betas to pick up the slack while they tend to the younger pups, but they definitely can get married and have children.  The only real different between a pregnant Delta and a pregnant Beta is the litter size.  Betas have 1-2 at a time, while Deltas can have 6 or more in one sitting,” he explained.

“So…  Wait…  Then…  You’re actually dating me because you…  Oh my God, you really like me?!” Stiles shouted.

Derek nodded, glancing at Stiles as though he were the world’s largest idiot.

“Have I really been that subtle?  Jackson ASSURED me that the briefs were getting the message across,” Derek asked quietly.

Stiles really couldn't enjoy dinner after that.  He just had to keep asking the same question over and over again.

_So you love me?  You actually LOVE me, and aren't just...  Honor bound?_

_Stiles, I love you.  For YOU.  Not because of what kind of wolf you are._

 

+

 

After dinner was over, Derek treated Stiles to some gelato and then a drive through the countryside in his Camaro.  

It was roughly 1 AM by the time they got back home, and Isaac was already asleep in his bedroom, while Scott was conked out on the couch.  

Though instead  of them parting ways at the front door, Derek kept Stiles’ hand and moved them upstairs to the topmost floor.  He opened the door to his room, and the two walked inside.

“Come in,” Derek said, ushering Stiles in as he shut the door behind them.  

One of the perks about the Hale household was soundproof and scentproof rooms.  Though Stiles backed away, wondering where the evening was going.

“I thought you might want some privacy tonight.  Based on dinner, I’m scared you really don’t know much about.  I feel like I’ve failed you as an Alpha, but..  Your full change is taking way too long.  It wasn’t this long with Scott and Jackson, so I guess…  I guess I’m going to tell you what to expect when your instincts kick in,” Derek admitted.

Stiles nodded immediately.  “I need you to tell me everything about the Delta.  I’m starting to worry I’ve been worrying about a lot of things unnecessarily,” he said immediately.

Derek nodded, peeling off his shirt and pants, leaving himself just in a pair of bright pink briefs..  “Stiles, being a Delta means one thing and one thing only.  You have the ability to bear children in larger quantities than a normal non-delta woman could, and have an instinct to take care of the pack that comes from the mothering blood that’s pumping through your body.  There is no “everything else”.  But there are “urges” you’re going to feel,” he explained.

Stiles didn’t realize it, but he’d already taken off his shirt, listening to Derek’s every word as he shucked off his pants to reveal his oversized boxer shorts.

“You’ll have the same werewolf urges as the rest of us do.  Usually that means you’ll be horny on full moons and probably be just a tad bit desperate for touch.  We’ll get you through your first couple and make sure you don't do anything you wouldn't do while on a sane mind, and then you’ll be fine,” Derek said, as he fell backwards on his bed, patting for Stiles to join him.

Stiles climbed on Derek’s bed, and made himself comfortable at Derek’s side.  His Alpha put his arm around Stiles, and let the Delta use his chest as a pillow.  “For Deltas?  Well, you’re probably going to want to be pregnant.  I remember my aunt telling me once that it was like getting a “fix” from a drug high.  Thankfully, Peter should be here soon to confirm most of that.  Actually, I’m sure after his wife gives birth, that she’d be more than happy to be an even better source of information,” he offered.

A lot of weight on Stiles’ shoulders seemed to lift off him.

“So if I wanted to…  You know, have a job and shit?  Go to college?  I could do that?!” he exclaimed.

Derek smiled warmly.  “Stiles, most denmothers don’t want those sort of things, but it’s not written in stone.  My aunt chose to be a denmother because that’s what made her happy, and later on in life she chose to pursue studies in medicine after her fifth son was diagnosed with cancer.  I just said that it was your right as the Denmother to be provided for, and the Hale pack would provide for you if that was your choice.  All of you have college funds.  Even Isaac has a college fund, but from what I understand, he’s going to just get a job at the local coffee shop,” he explained, pressing a gentle kiss on Stiles’ head.  “You don’t have to work, if you don’t want to.  As your Alpha, all I want you guys to be is happy with your lives.  The Hale family is old money.  Hell, half my brothers and sisters are Alphas that just lounge around all day in their homes barking orders to their betas, and they’re content to spend their days reading or watching television.  I don’t judge them for it, but I also don’t agree with them on how to spend their lives,” he explained, shaking his head.

“The important question to ask here is what do you want?  It’s definitely your choice,” Derek asked.

Stiles’s brain was on fire.  He’d already given up plans of college.  Based on what Melissa said, he expected to never really leave the house or the pack again as long as he-…

 _“Wait…  How the hell was Melissa SO wrong?”_ he asked himself.  Melissa was a nurse and had never told a lie a day in her life.  She was smart.  If she didn’t know the answer, she would have never made it up in the first place.

“Derek…  I need you to confirm this.  I need you to confirm this, and I’m going to listen to your heart very carefully to make sure you’re not lying to me,” Stiles stammered out, feeling his breath tighten.

Derek nodded.  “Anything you need Stiles,” he answered.

Stiles slammed his ear down right on top of Derek’s heart.  His skin was warm, and he could feel it flush underneath him.  The smell was amazing.  Like a mixture of pine needles and dirt.

“A Delta…  A delta has the right to choose what they want in life.  If I wanted to go to college, or not have children, I can choose those things and…  And there not be any consequences that would hurt me,” Stiles asked.

Derek didn’t even wait a second to answer.  “Yes.  You are correct,” he answered.

No uptick.  

His alpha wasn’t lying.

Stiles had to seriously re-evaluate his life.  

Granted, there was no actual sexy-time happening, but he was practically naked.  With Derek Hale, also practically naked.  

Derek Hale wanted him.  There wasn’t some stupid-ass Alpha/Delta law in place, and he had CHOICES.

“So…  If I told you I didn’t want to have any children, you’d…  Not want to murder me?  I wouldn’t die of loneliness or some weird ass Delta mechanism in my brain?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head.  “I’d be disappointed, because I do want children, but that’s something we can work out years down the line.  I’m not asking you to get pregnant the second you graduate.  I will say it’d be a killer for me, and I’d have to think about our relationship,”

No uptick.

Derek still wasn’t lying.

“Sorry, but…  What about Jackson and Scott?  Would I have to…  You know…  Mother their kids too?” he asked worryingly.  Honestly, THAT had been bothering him more than anything else.  It wasn’t fair for Scott and Jackson, but also sucked majorly for himself.

Derek shrugged.  “You can, there were plenty of Deltas that did that sort of thing, but it’s a rather archaic tradition.  I think the last pack to practice that was the Alpha pack back in 1932.  But no…  You don’ thave to.  My father and mother were content to mate together as Alpha and Beta, and had PLENTY of kids to show for it.  Considering we’re an all-gay pack right now, it might be food for thought down the line via surrogacy, but no.  You don’t HAVE to,” he replied.

No uptick.

He was telling the truth.

Laughing, Derek pulled Stiles closer, ending his ability to be an accurate lie-detector as Derek nuzzled their faces together.  “Seriously, if you have Delta questions, why didn’t you just go to Deaton?  He walked Scott and Jackson through their Beta changes.  I’m sure he’d be happy to walk you through all of yours as well,” he answered.

Which brought up a BRILLIANT point.

Why hadn’t he gone to Deaton?

 

+

 

Things weren’t making sense anymore.  

Derek hadn’t been lying to him when he talked about all the Delta crap.

Yet, neither had Melissa.  She’d been telling the truth as well.

The only person that could have really helped him, Swiles, had been quiet lately.  He didn’t come when summoned, and Stiles could only wonder if maybe they’d finally merged as a person.  

He needed to talk to Deaton AND Melissa, and figure out what was really going on.  Because after doing another round of research online, there wasn’t a single article about what Melissa had described to him.  He even went to a Delta online forum and typed out the exact information she had provided to him, only to be called a “dumbass piece of shit”.  

Unfortunately, answer would have to wait.

Deaton had been beckoned to the Hale house in Southern California, and Melissa had left on an urgent medical conference.  He wouldn’t have answers anytime soon.  

Derek had, however, informed him that Peter Hale, who was on his way to their home as they spoke, would be able to answer any questions.  His wife was the pack Delta for the Hale Clan in the south, and would be an expert on the subject.

However, no matter what was actually going on, Stiles found himself advancing in a relationship with Derek, on HIS terms.  Because apparently Derek was fine if Stiles wasn’t into him, and assured Stiles that there were other fish in the sea, and to NEVER feel guilty, because he’d always be welcomed in their home.  

Somehow that had been comforting enough to make him fall for Derek even harder than he already had been.  

Which is how Stiles found himself sleeping most nights in Derek’s bed, rather than his own.  Everything had been so confusing, that it was nice to have one person to latch onto that he KNEW was telling the truth.  His Alpha.  He wasn’t sure why, but he trusted Derek over everyone else.  More than Swiles, more than Deaton, and even more than Melissa.  He felt RIGHT.

Still, he couldn’t help but stare at Derek, in all his bare chested glory, and not wonder what the man saw in him.  He fidgeted in Derek’s free arm, burying himself in the man’s shoulder.  His alpha, like every night, was caught up in a new book.

“You’re stressing,” Derek said, turning a page in his book.

Stiles laughed.  “Sorry, hard to turn my brain off,” he admitted.

Derek shut his book.  “What are you worrying about?” he asked.

Sighing, Stiles shook his head.  He knew better than to lie to Derek.  “I’m just waiting for the curtain to drop,” he answered.

“The what?” Derek asked.

“The curtain.  You know, I’m waiting for something to go wrong.  Someone to say this is all a big joke, and…  Well, I mean…  You’re way too good for me,” Stiles finally admitted.

“Do you really have that low of an opinion of yourself?” Derek spat.

Derek was…  Mad?

Stiles looked up at his Alpha.  His eyes were hurt, but his eyebrows screamed anger.  

Like lifting a feather, Derek picked up stiles and plopped him right on his chest.  Their eyes met, and Stiles could feel the strength radiating out of Derek’s.

“Stiles, you are the single most perfect being there is on this planet.  You are gorgeous.  You are smart.  After Scott got bit, you were the ONLY one who dared to ask if I was a good enough Alpha for Scott.  After the Jackson fiasco, you came to ME and demanded that I take him in.  You didn’t even bother to ask permission when it came to visiting Isaac at my place.  I’m pretty sure you made a key yourself,”  Derek explained.

Stiles blushed.

“You’re the most caring person I’ve ever met.  Even before the bite, I knew that I wanted you in my life.  Even if you’d presented as an Alpha, I would still have wanted you in my world somehow,” Derek said, petting Stiles’ hair gently.  “Without a doubt, you are the one and only for me.  I’ve saved my virginity for the person I know I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, and I know that’s going to be you.  I know that if it happens, that it’s going to be the most beautiful moment in my life,” he explained, pressing a gentle kiss on Stiles’ forehead.

Laughing nervously, Stiles shook his head.  “We haven’t even had sex yet.  I’m like…  Probably not going to be very good at that,” he said, in an attempt to break the tension

Derek smirked.   “Stiles, sex doesn’t even register with me yet.  I picture us having sex, of course, but it doesn’t matter to me right now.  All I want is my mate to know how inexplicably wonderful he is, and how much I actually love him.  And I do.  Stiles, I love you.  That is never going to change,” Derek said, reaching over and turning out his reading lamp.  Besides the moonlight peeking through the glass, everything else was pitch black.

Derek placed several chaste kisses on Stiles’ shoulders and neck.  “Go to sleep.  We’ll talk more about us later.  But tonight?  All I want you to know is that I’ve always thought you were too good for ME.  Goodnight Stiles,” he whispered, as he placed his hands on Stiles’ lower back, and one on his pajama-clad ass.  

The touch was intimate enough that warmth spread throughout his entire body.  

Though just before falling asleep something registered in Stiles’ brain.  

_“I’m saving my virginity for the person I know I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”_

How was…  How was Derek still a virgin?

 

+

 

Stiles, surprisingly enough, woke up about 2 hours later than usual.  Scrambling to get off of Derek, who he found was the BEST pillow in the history of mankind, Stiles rushed down the staircase to get breakfast rolling.

Or he would have, if 20 cases of IHOP food wasn’t already covering their kitchen table.

Isaac and Scott were smiling at the table with playful grins.

Stiles mentally groaned. He probably smelled of Derek.

“Did mommy and daddy have a good night’s sleep?” Scott asked gleefully.

Isaac snorted, nearly choking on his pancakes.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Mommy and Daddy had a VERY good night’s sleep.  A very non-sexy night’s sleep, thank you very much!” he spat back.

Isaac and Scott both groaned simultaneously.

“So no hanky-panky?” Scott offered sadly.

Stils shook his head.

“We didn’t DO anything.  Well, I mean…  Derek sort of…  Stayed up all night kissing me, but-”

“AWWWW!” Scott and Isaac said in a cute unison.

Blushing, Stiles swore under his breath, staring at all the food.  “What’s the deal here?  I could have made breakfast!  It’s Saturday!” he exclaimed.

Scott rolled his eyes, drenching his pancakes in syrup.  “Dude, you’ve cooked like every day for two weeks straight.  It’s OUR turn.  That’s really only fair,” he answered.

Isaac nodded.  “Seriously, you’ve kind of been on overdrive around this place.  I know you get paid to do it and you're running on instinct and shit, but I mean…  You can ask us for help sometimes,” he offered.

“They’re right, you know,” Derek offered.

The three stared at the entrance to the kitchen.  Derek was already in his work jumpsuit for the day, stopping to press a gentle kiss into Stiles’ head.  

“Did you get the book like I asked you to?” he asked.

Stiles nodded.  “The Help, right?” he asked

Derek smiled.  “Take today off.  No cleaning, no cooking, no nothing.  I want you to take a break and enjoy a Saturday off.  Even denmothers need their rest,” he said, pulling Stiles into a warm hug, and glaring at Isaac and Scott.  “Make sure he doesn’t do anything, okay?” he offered.

Both saluted at Derek.

“YES SIR, OPERATION MAKE STILES A COUCH POTATO IS GO!” Scott shouted back.

Derek rolled his eyes, and smiled as he pressed one more kiss into Stiles’ cheek.   “You is special.  You is kind.  You is important.  Don’t ever forget that.  Have a good day, and try to relax.  Peter will be here Monday, and the rest of us are taking the day off work and school so he can talk to us  I’ve already called and told him that you two need to talk privately,” he explained.  

Stiles nodded.  “Thanks Derek,” he answered back, taking a moment to press a kiss into Derek’s neck.  

After filling up his thermos with coffee, and snagging three containers of IHOP to eat for the road, Derek was out the front door, and Stiles was left in the middle of the kitchen, melting into the floor.

“ _Oh my God, he really does like me.  AHHHH!  Derek Hale LIKES ME!”_ Stiles shouted to himself, smiling like an idiot.  That is, until he recealled all of their conversations.   _“Oh my God…  Derek Hale probably thinks I’m a fucking idiot.  I AM GOING KILL MELISSA!  WITH A TRAIN!  WHY THE HELL DID SHE TELL ME ALL THAT RIDICULOUS SHIT!?  MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHY DID SWILES MAKE ME GO ALONG WITH IT?!”_ he yelled angrily at himself.

Scott and Isaac eyed him curiously as the mental warfare gave him a rather unique looking face.

Stiles sighed, realizing how he must have looked..  “So I have crippling insecurity about being loved and mortifying self-esteem issues.  I’m working on it,” he explained to the two.

“Oh!  Well now pretty much everything makes sense,” Scott offered, nodding.

Growling, Stiles moved over to right behind Isaac.  

“Have I mentioned you’re my favorite?” Stiles said, hugging Isaac tightly from behind.

“Do I get Scott’s eggs?” Isaac asked hopefully.

“You get Scott’s bacon too.  Scotty goes to work hungry today,” Stiles spat, sticking his tongue out at Scott as he pretended to steal his best friend’s carton of food..

“HEY!  I need that shit!  Deaton’s gone, and I have to deal with all his usual supernatural bullshit ON TOP of tending to a very pregnant cow that I’m probably going to have my arm up in!  I NEED THE FOOD!” Scott shouted right back, grabbing the carton as though it were his last meal on earth.

The three shared a bit o laughter, while Stiles moved back to the kitchen counter to grab his own meal.  At least until he stopped in the middle of the kitchen, drowning out all the other sounds.

Something from the night before really bothered Stiles.  The comment Derek had made about his virginity.  Not that it really MATTERED, since virginity was just a stupid word that people made up to make other people feel bad about not having it.  Still, the word DID mean something.  It meant that Derek had never had sex.  Which…  Was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

“Hey Isaac, Scott?  Do you guys know a man named William?  People say he sort of looks like me a bit,” Stiles asked casually, as he opened up a box from IHOP and began carrying it back to the table.

He expected a lot of excuses.  Worried laughter.  Maybe even tears, apologizing for sexing up his dopplebanger.

What he hadn’t expected was two bland faces more interested in eating their food.

Isaac shrugged.  “Not really.  Then again, I don’t know many people at school, since I’m new,” he replied.

Scott shook his head.  “Nah.  Why?” he asked.

Stiles felt his gut drop.  Neither of them were lying.  Which also explained how Derek was still a virgin.

None of them had slept with Swiles.  None of them probably ever met the man.  

“No reason, just curious,” Stiles answered.

An obvious lie, but everything just seemed to be more infuriatingly confusing than ever.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles wasn’t sure where he was.

Everything what white.  The walls, the tiled floors, and even the light shining through the windows that lined the hallway he was in.  

Long silk curtains flapped in the breeze from the open air flowing through the windows.  

Everything smelled like spring.  Flowers, a wet dewy morning, and a hint of honeysuckle.

Looking around, Stiles could see both sides of the hallway seemed gargantuanly infinite.  As if walking them would be a pointless endeavor.

Until he turned to face behind him, where a gentle child’s laugh echoed.

In front of him was a black door.  

Stilinksi, Genim was written in bold letters on a hospital-style room card.

Stiles hitched his breath.  The font, the smell, and everything was immediately familiar.  He just hadn't seen it in over a decade.

This was the Eichen House, the local asylum back when he was a child, and before all the funding dried up and turned it into a Saw-esque dungeon.  It’s where…  Where his mom had died, and where he’d spent the last night of their lives together.

Another loud giggle seemed to echo from the doorway.  A twisted, demented giggle.  

Nervously, Stiles gulped and stepped forward.  He clutched the doorknob, and screamed as the door, the walls, and the windows melted into a dark red ooze.

The world spun in a cylce of red and black, covering the world and disrupting his perception of reality.  There was no “ground” or “sky”.  There was just…  The void.  

He wasn't anywhere anymore.  

“To lose a son… I never thought it would come to his,” Claudia’s voice echoed.

Floating aimlessly in the nothingness, Stiles saw a hospital bed appear in front of him.  Complete with young adults standing over it, holding hands lovingly.

He’d only ever seen them like that in pictures.  Stiles blocked out their images otherwise.

The soft brunette hair of his younger mother.  Then there was the thin, punked up blonde hairstyle that he father once wore.

Stiles backed away immediately as the final face came into view.  His mother wasn’t in the bed.  

HE was.

A nine year old Stiles Stilinksi, in a hospital gown and with bandages wrapped around his head.  His eyes were a vacant grey, clearly blind, and the laughter wasn’t from playing.  He was fully restrained to the bed, fighting recklessly to get free, while laughing through the pain.  Little Stiles’ wrists were bloody against the steel handcuff, just like his mother’s had been that night.  

 _“Lost in his own mind.  Completely blind to the world around him without his eyes.  A fate worse than death,”_  a female stranger said.  Likely a nurse.  She sounded very familiar.

John put his hand on Claudia’s shoulder.  They tried to hold onto brave smiles.

“They say he wont’ last much longer.  The pressure on his brain is too much.  Soon…  He won’t even know what the real world is anymore… “ Claudia said quietly.

“It’s genetic.  We always knew he might inherit it.  Claudia, we were prepared for this,” John said.   

In fact, John laughed.  

Stiles’s eyes shot open at that laugh.  It was cold, and incredibly cruel.

“We’ll make sure to adopt next time.  A HEALTHY child, one that won't die on us,” he answered.

Claudia nodded.  “I regret ever having him.  It’s just too much on us,” she whimpered quietly.

“NO!” Stiles shouted.  He felt tears streaming down his face.  

His parents turned to him, watching him curiously.

Stiles’ face quivered.  “You told me you loved me!  That last night!  You…  You said it!  It was the last thing you said!  YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME!” he sobbed, his entire body violently shaking.  “It’s…  It’s all I’ve had ALL THESE YEARS!” he screamed.  

Claudia blinked, seemingly unmoved by Stiles’ words.

"Who are you?" Claudia asked.

Stiles shook.  “Mom…  Mom, it’s ME.  Stiles!” he cried out, lunging forward to hug her tightly.  His arms expected to feel the warm flesh of his mother's touch.  Instead, all he was met with shattered glass.  He’d broken his mother into thousands of shards of glass as he clutched her tightly, lying on the floor lazily with loud crunches.

Turning to his side, Stiles felt a chill down his spine.  John was looking over him, with the same faraway glare.  

“I lost her…  Again.  You couldn’t even let me have this one dream?  You couldn’t just let me be happy, could you Genim?,” John said, reaching into his pocket.  Stiles saw it, the gun.  He couldn’t move, completely helpless as his father brought it to his own head and pulled the trigger.  Just like his mother, Stiles was forced into seeing his father shatter beneath him in shards of glass.

Like shattered mirrors, all they showed was Stiles’ own broken reflection in the heap of their graves

“You broked them,” mini-Stiles said.

Jumping, Stiles fell backwards, backing away and cutting himself on the sharp glass his parents had left behind.  In front of him was his hospital-self, with those dark, lifeless eyes.  

“You broked them.  You broked them.  You broked them,” little Stiles keep saying, over and over again, in a deafening sing-song tune.

Stiles shrieked, trying to block out the sounds of his own voice.  Sounds that scared him worse than anything he’d ever been through in his life.

+

 

Stiles kept shrieking, jumping out of his nightmare and falling to the ground beside his bed.  He hurdled into a heaping ball of limbs, not letting his throat ease up for even a moment.  At least, until he felt a familiar set of hands on his body.  

“Are you all right?  Stiles?  Are you okay?” Swiles asked.

Glaring up, Stiles met his own wolf’s face.  It was full of concern, with soft, green eyes.  

Still shaking and reliving the image of his mother shattering in his arms, Stiles fell into his wolf’s arm, being petted and comforted by him.  “Relax…  I’m here stiles, just…  Relax,” he said, in a deep and comforting tone.

Stiles wasn’t sure how long his night terror lasted.  The window to the outdoors had been pitch black when he’d woken up, and the tips of the morning sun seemed to finally be seen on the horizon.  

Seeing the light seemed to calm him.  Even more so than Swiles’ warm hands.

“Are you okay now?” Swiles asked, rubbing tiny circles on Stiles’ hand.

He nodded in response, slowly getting to his feet.  

“I..  I haven’t had a nightmare like that in…  Ever..  Oh my God…” Stiles whispered, folding his arms together for warmth.  He was FREEZING, and immediately ran to his chest to grab one of his many sweaters.  

“I saw it.  I’m sorry,” Swiles answered.

Stiles pulled on the sweater, only mildly warmer.  All the cold seemed to stay on the inside.

“Not your fault…” Stiles mumbled.

As everything seemed to fall back into normalcy, Stiles felt his gut churn.

“YOU!” he shouted, immediately awake.  He pointed at Swiles and moved towards him, poking the air.  “You are so full of fucking BULLSHIT!  You have NEVER slept with my friends!  WHAT THE FUCKING HELL!?” Stiles shouted, transforming his fear and anger from the dream directly target Swiles for maximum damage.

Swiles held his hands up.  “Okay…  Okay, I know I should have told you that I MAY have just messed with your dreams a bit, but…  I did it for your own good!” he announced.  Swiles chuckled nervously as Stiles growled in his face, complete with his tiny Delta fangs.

“HOW WAS MAKING ME THING I WAS TAKING IT UP THE ASS WITH MY PACK HELPING ME?!” Stiles shrieked.

Swiles pressed a gentle kiss on Stiles’ forehead.  “My little pet.. I thought it was for the best.  I didn’t mean to lie, but…  Considering what a mess you were, your self esteem could use the boost.  I mean, really, how would anyone find you attractive?" He explained.  

Stiles stopped poking at his wolf.

“Talk to me seriously for a moment.  Didn’t it feel good being WANTED?  Because, I mean, we never got that from dad, that’s for sure.  Or mom, really,” Swiles said, cupping Stiles’ face with his hands.  

_"You couldn't even let me have this dream."_

_"Who are you?"_

_"I regret ever having him"_

He smiled..  “You’re a Delta, my little flower…  A denmother.  You’re nothing more than the pack’s bitch, doing the laundry and cooking like you should.  Yet you’ve got the muscles and body type of a Beta, or even an Omega.  Nobody could find THIS attractive,” Swiles said, tracing Stiles’ hard-earned abdomen.  

Stiles shook his head.  

“Don’t let them fool you Stiles.  They all want you on all fours being the good little slut you should be,” Swiles added.

“They’re not..  They’re not like that…” Stiles answered.

Swiles snorted.  “Sure they’re not,” he added warmly.  Moving out of Stiles’ range of focus, Swiles gently massaged Stiles’ hair.  “Because what kind of serious relationship starts with Derek manhandling you in the kitchen and DEMANDING that you tell him if you’re attractive to him?” he offered.

Gulping loudly,Stiles relived the moment.  He’d thought it’d been romantic and incredibly hot with his Alpha wolfed out, but..  Who DID start a relationship that way?

“I’m sure Derek is blueballing like crazy right now, just waiting for the right “romantic” moment to claim you.  You heard him yourself.  He wants pups and a big family.  Five bucks says he “accidentally” forgets to use protection when you finally do let him inside your cave of love, and you find yourself with a litter,” Swiles said, laughing quietly.

“He wouldn’t!” Stiles shouted immediately, turning around and slapping Swiles’ hand away.

Swiles smirked.  “Everything I’ve done was for YOUR sake, Stiles.  I’m sorry I was facicious.  In the end, all I want is for us to be one,” Swiles said, kissing Stiles repeatedly on the head and forehead.  “For us to be one, you need to stop lying to yourself and just submit already.  Give in to them like you should, and everything will be alright,” he said quietly.  

“Derek…  Derek says I’m…  He likes me!” Stiles shouted.

Swiles laughed deeply.  “Stiles, darling, he just wants your pups.  He’ll say anything to achieve that goal.  Don’t be fooled.” he exclaimed.

Stiles hitched his breath.  “He said he loved me!  He wouldn’t just SAY that!  HE wasn’t lying, I know he wasn’t!” he yelled, hesitation growing in his heart.

“Of course he’d say that.  Darling, these are WOLVES you are dealing with.  They’re not above pretending.  Derek’s from the Hale family.  Chances are he’s learned how to lie, or adjust his body ticks to get away with a believable lie.  Even you could do it, given enough time passed,” Swiles replied, tracing along Stiles’ collarbone.

Stiles’ eyes kept blinking repeatedly, hearing his wolf’s words over and over again, and also hearing his mother and father’s nightmare fuel.  Slowly, he collapsed to his knees.

Swiles quickly bent down and held Stiles’ face in his own.  

“Stiles, I’m the only one who you can count on.  I need you to believe that.  Okay?” Swiles offered kindly.

That is, until Stiles slapped him across the face, leaving a glaring red mark.  He then drew out his claws, throwing upwards and leaving nasty claw marks across Swiles’ chest.

“You’re WRONG!  You’ve lied once!  You’re lying now!” Stiles shouted, growling loudly at his wolf.

Swiles’ face narrowed, and he let loose his own set of teeth.

“Fine.  Just wait and see for yourself.  They’ll show their true colors soon enough,” he spat, vanishing into thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update tonight, I had a lot of plans pop up. I figured a short update was better than no update.
> 
> Actually, expect a series of shorter updates this week as we get closer and closer to the midpoint of the first Story Arc. (and it's totally not because work is going to be a bitch of overtime for the next five days. TOTALLY not)


	7. Chapter 7

Just spot on time, Peter arrived Monday morning.

Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin when the complete stranger was already in the kitchen, and had a full 3 course breakfast prepared for the pack.  Including twelve brewed teas and two remarkable blends of coffee that Stiles could smell each and every imported bean of.  Pancakes, fruits salads, and homemade waffles drizzling with natural maple syrups.

“Ah.  Stiles, correct?” Peter asked.

Stiles was overwhelmed by all that was “Peter”.  Even for someone in their human 40’s (which equated to werewolf middle 200’s), he had a classic handsomeness about him.  Slicked back copper brown hair, a soft beard, and striking Beta blue eyes.  Pictures in Derek’s family album hadn’t been kind to him.  Definitely had a massif DILF guise.

“Stiles?  Not to be presumptuous, but when someone of my stature, of one of the most powerful wolf families in the world asks you a question, it’s only respectful that you answer in kind,” Peter said, with a kind, almost flirty smile.

Shaking off his surprise, Stiles tried a weak laugh.  “S..  Sorry!  I uh..  I wasn't expecting you until noon!  I’m so sorry to make you cook for us!  You must be starving after your flight all the way here.  You were dealing with the the Xiao-Long pack, right?” he asked.

Peter smirked in surprise.  “A good memory.  Yes, we are in the middle of establishing international standards of werewolf practice.  Some packs still view us as a superior race that should rule over humans, and stand at the brink of war with their countrymen and women.  When in reality, they don’t know what fools they are,” he answered, putting his arm around Stiles and moving him towards the dinner table.  “As for cooking?  Well, I share denmother responsibilities with my wife Clara, and my son Michael.  This is a fairly small serving to be honest.  I do wish Derek would find more for his pack.  Depressing really, I can barely feel the pack warmth.  About 45 would be a good size for this location.  Given he made some alterations to his home's architecture,” he explained, pulling a chair out and sitting Stiles down by mild force.  

Stiles nearly fainted.  There was more food on the table than he’d ever prepared.  THAT was small?  Stiles shuddered to think what Peter and his family cooked for the main Hale household.  There were about 75 under Talia, not counting the Alphas of the family like Derek who had gone of to make their own packs.

“Now then…  Tea or coffee?  Believe it or not, I will judge everything about you based on your answer.  Please answer wisely,” Peter said, trailing his fingertips on Stiles’ neck.  

Stiles shivered.  Derek had warned him about Peter.  He was the left hand of the Hale family, the darkness that protected them at any costs, discarding moral and ethical ambiguities.  Peter was insane, manipulative, and the most terrifying werewolf in North America.  A mixture of the old werewolf world and the modernized ideals of peace and unity generated by Talia Hale.  Upon the world realizing the truth of werewolves, Peter was the first to ready arms to annihilate the human race should they strike back.  When the world accepted his kind, he was the first to come to humanity’s aid when desperate wolves would destroy those who had accepted them.    

In the end though, Stiles saw through him instantly.  

Smiling, Stiles grinned at Peter, happy to finally get to meet him.  “Tea please,” he answered.

Peter chuckled.  “Congratulations, you passed.  I like you more than Derek now,” he answered with a warm smile.

Stiles watched him move to one of the many silver teapots, pouring Stiles and himself a cup.  He rolled his eyes.  There wasn’t any big secret to Peter Hale.  He was a man who valued his family over everything else, including his own life, including the world, society, and even his own family members that might bring harm to others or their family.

Returning to the table, Peter pushed a cup of tea to Stiles.  They both drank silently for a moment, as Stiles moaned at the brew.  

“Irish Black?” Stiles asked.

Peter laughed quietly under his breath.  “I now like you more than my own brother, Kyle.  This is a rare feat, Delta Stiles,” he answered quietly.  He put down his cup of tea and crossed his legs.  “So how is life adjusting to being a werewolf?  Not that it should have been that much of a transition, given how you were the anchor for both Scott and Jackson,” he asked.

Stiles sighed.  “It’s uh…  A little weird,” he answered.

Thoughts of Swiles came to mind.  Peter was the perfect person to ask.

“Peter…  Is it possible to have a…  Disconnect between your human self and your wolf self?  I spoke with a human nurse, and she…  Well, she said there was something called Shadow Syndrome.  Where a wolf and the human don’t agree, and they fight to the death over bodily supremacy?” he asked.

Eyeing Sties carefully, Peter hummed quietly.  “Yes and no,” he said quietly.  He took another sip of his tea and shook his head.  “Shadow Syndrome was prominent in the first years that our race began transmitting the bite to humans.  As sad as it is to admit, not all of our race performed the bite…  Humanely.  As such, humans turned against their will generally found themselves struggling with their new wolf instincts.  Usually, our kind euthanized them, rather than watch them suffer,” he said, quickly shaking his head.  “So yes, it does exist, but no, it’s not prominent in this world anymore.  Given that our race is now known to the world, and seeing that humanity has changed since the early 1300s, being a “werewolf” is no longer that Mortal Sin that it was in the middle ages.  Thanks to knowledge about our kind, and proper training and education pre and post bite, there hasn’t been a case of Shadow Syndrome in my lifetime,” he said.  Peter went so far as to laugh.  "I would have noticed if you suffered from Shadow Syndrome.  Derek too.  It's something Alphas are trained to look for.  You've fully merged with your wolf.  Someone as remarkable as yourself?  I doubt a wolf come tame you anyway," he offered confidently. 

“Oh,” Stiles said, putting his head down.  Melissa had lied to him AGAIN.  Not only about mating, but also about Shadow Syndrome.

But then…  What did that make Swiles?  

Before he had a chance to adequately explain, the sounds of footsteps interrupted their conversation.

Isaac and Derek were the first ones down, both thankfully fully dressed.  They must have sensed Peter once they opened their sealed rooms, and re-dressed.  Given Jackson’s return from college searches, and the fact that he and Scott hadn’t left Jackson’s room since the night before, Stiles wasn’t holding his breath that they’d be down for dinner.  Or lunch.

“Peter, I see you made yourself right at home?” Derek asked with a snarky sigh.  

Isaac didn’t bother to speak, instead just plopping next to Stiles and resting his head on Stiles’ shoulders.  “Sleepy.  I need coffee.  I was up all night reading those Harry Potter books you let me borrow,” he begged.

Stiles nodded.  “Just a sec,” he answered, pressing a gentle kiss on Isaac’s head and standing up.  He moved to the opposite side of the kitchen, retrieving Isaac’s bright red mug from the cabinet and filling it with coffee.  Isaac didn’t bother with sugar or cream in the mornings, so Stiles went straight back to the table.  Peter and Derek were already busy spearing out portions of food to the rest of the pack.  

“So Derek…  I do hate to ask this of you, but may I spare your presence in private for the next few days?” Peter said, handing Stiles a stack of strawberry pancakes.  

Derek turned to Peter, eyeing him cautiously.  “It’s a matter that my pack can’t be involved with?” he asked.

Isaac and Stiles glanced to Peter.  The man didn’t bother to return their curious looks.

“It’s a matter that I lack full information on and information that is rather..  Private at the moment.  I hope to get your opinion before I come and inform your pack.  There’s a lot to discuss, and I want to clear it through you before I speak with your pack.  No offense to either of you, of course,” Peter offered, nodding in Isaac and Stiles’ direction.

Derek nodded.  “Fine.  How’s Clara?  This is your what…  5th or 6th litter?” he asked.

“Doing well, I heard she went into labor this morning, we spoke over the phone.  Look's like we'll be having five this time.  Oh, and this is just our 4th litter Derek.  Clara is a Delta, not a baby machine.  You act like all we do is have sex,” Peter chuckled.

“Ew.  Peter, I do NOT need to picture that,” Derek spat angrily.

Several chuckled, while Stiles watched Peter anxiously.  “So…  Your wife is a Delta?” he asked.

The laughter stopped.

Peter nodded fondly.  “Yes.  You and Clara are very similar.  Bringers of life into this world in multiple litters.  Ones who hold a bond with children and others greater than any of us.  The only werewolf classification that has the inner strength to perform such a feat,” he explained.  Though he quickly glanced over Stiles.  “Though it seems you’re still not quite ready.  A late bloomer?  I can sense you haven't shed your first blood,” he asked.

“Stiles has been changing slowly.  Scott and Jackson had already fully turned by this point,” Derek explained.

Peter hummed curiously, as he began cutting up his plate of food.  “Deltas are rare.  There’s less than 7 of them in the United States, not including Stiles.  There’s not been a bitten Delta in many years.  It takes a special person to be a Delta, so I have no practical knowledge on the subject of changing,” he explained.

Stiles sighed.  Of course Peter wouldn’t know.  

 

+

 

Derek and Peter had taken up residence in a 4-star hotel, where Peter had rented a werewolf suite.  Just like the the rooms in Derek’s house, the walls were impervious to scent and sound.  They were as private as one could be.

Derek poured himself a helping of an alcoholic beverage from the mini-bar.  “So.  How did the Xiao Longs fare?” he asked.

Chuckling, Peter shook his head.  “As stubborn as ever.  Xin Xiao Long was as as pretentious as always, I hate that woman...  In the end, I had to threaten them with full on Hale warfare if they took any action against their people or attempted to claim land for their own by bloodshed.  Though that’s not our biggest concern at the moment.  All of that could have been told to your pack.  It's not private kknowledge,” he answered.

Derek turned to Peter, taking a long drink of his beverage.  “Oh?  What is?” he asked.

“I hear that Deucalion Oblige came through your territory in prior weeks?” Peter inquired.

Nodding, Derek took a seat across from Peter at the dining table.  “Said he had business with the Dunbar Pack in Oregon and then wanted to return home,” he said.

“He was on his way to speak with Triston Dunbar, hoping to forge an alliance.  Triston had started his own pack, much like you did,” Peter said.

“And?” Derek asked, scoffing.  Alliances weren’t uncommon.  It’d be more common for wolves to NOT seek out alliance.

“When Deucalion arrived, the Dunbar pack has vanished.  Their home had been burned to the ground.  All that remained were ashes,” Peter said grimly.

Derek flinched, dropping his bottle of alcohol, where it shattered on his floor.  “What?!” he exclaimed.  
The Dunbar pack had been family friends for decades.  Derek had grown up playing with the youngest Alpha of the pack, Triston, and he’d been named the Godwolf for Liam Dunbar, Triston’s son, and the newborn Gamma of the group, who was around 5 years old by now.  They were practically all family to him.  
Peter nodded.  “We’re searching everywhere for them, but the scent is gone.  I’ve been traveling since they vanished, getting our allies to help in the search.  Frankly, I believe they’re dead by this point.  Deucalion has all of his active pack searching as well, but we don’t have high hopes,” he admitted.  
Derek growled under his breath.  “Foul play?  Who the hell just offs an entire pack of wolves?!” he asked loudly.  
“Without a doubt.  It’s also not the first time that packs have just up and vanish out of thin air.  In the last year, we’ve lost contact with nine other packs.  The Dunbars would just be the very first one that would would consider an A class pack,” Peter answered.  
Derek cringed.  Wolf Packs were classed from D to A in ascending order, with S Class being the highest attainable rank.  Only the Hale and Oblige of North America were classed as S rank, but the Dunbars weren’t that far from reaching that same level.  
“What’s mom think?” Derek asked instead, choosing not to think how the Dunbars had been subdued.  Triston wasn’t a pushover, and his pack was already at 20 members.  They should have been able to protect themselves.  
“Hard to say at this point.  All she’s willing to do at this point is throw money and our family’s power at the problem.  That’s really all she can do,” Peter explained.  
Derek shook his head, massaging his forehead annoyingly. “What do the Argents say?” Derek asked spitefully.  
Peter laughed.  “Chris Argent has assured us that their family’s ancient feud is sated, and that they will forever be our allies as we work to solidify human were relationship.  Though he was quick to offer that not all Hunter families feel the same way.  I believe the Torchwicke family and the Zaur families still actively hunt in the underground networks.  The Cruz families have already come forward and offered us peace once the new of the Dunbar family surfaced publicly,” he explained.  
Derek growled.  “This is insane.  This is 2014, HOW are we still being hunted?!” he yelled loudly.  
Peter sighed, standing up from the comfort of the chair and admiring the book collection he’d packed in his bag..  “Humans fear us.  Now that we’re in the light, it’s becoming common knowledge about our…  Growing population,” he said, pausing in between sentences awkwardly.  
“So fear?” Derek replied, clawing at his wall and leaving a nasty dent.  
“Correct,” Peter whined, rolling his eyes as he selected “1984” from his personal collection.  “We’re stronger, faster, and more powerful than any other species in the world.  Many humans see us as the next evolutionary step in mankind, and fear that natural selection would find humanity as a sacrifice to Darwinism.  Some welcome us as their leaders and beg for the bite, while others fear and revile us as evil incarnate,” he explained, flipping through the first few pages of the book.    
Derek shook his head.  “I’m tightening security.  Can you spare us some pack members?  Scott and Jackson are still in high school, and I don’t want anyone getting NEAR my Stiles,” he said angrily.

Laughing, Peter nodded.  “I’m staying in the region for the time being.  My oldest son Michael will be tending to Clara until I can return and this matter is resolved.  Cora is being re-assigned to this location from her post in the FBI.  Adam and Hunter are coming as well,” he explained.

Derek loudly groaned.  “What?!  Adam and Hunter?  WHY?” he spat.

“I’ll never understand why you despise your big brothers so much.  They’re fine Epsilons and even finer men,” Peter responded annoyingly.

Derek growled.  “PETER, they made my life HELL.  Between them and Laura, they picked on me CEASELESSLY,” he yelled.

“Oh how bad could it have been?” Peter asked.

Slowly, Derek grabbed Peter by the collar and growled.  “Adam put icy hot in my jockstrap before the Homecoming Game.  Hunter told my first boyfriend that my dick was 2 inches long, and I overcompensated as an Alpha” he responded bitterly.

Peter snorted.

“It’s NOT FUNNY!” Derek screeched.   
  


+  
  


With Peter and Derek gone, the lucid nightmares ceased to end.  The short reprieve Stiles felt with Peter there ended harshly.  With each an every day passing, scenes of darkness invaded Stiles’ mind, and he could actually feel the horrors unfold.  Trapped within his mind, the dreams were as real as the day was to him.  
Visions of Scott’s father returning and finishing Scott off with the same gun he once used on Melissa herself.  The laughter echoed in his head, as though he were there himself.  
A weaving of visual tapestry, showing Stiles his own father poisoned by the drink he used to escape from the world, only to escape from life itself.  Laying dead on a couch, bottles clattered as Stiles raced to the corpse, shattering the glass inside the soles of his feet with deep cuts.  
Sights of Isaac tortured, lying dead and bloody as his father laughed over his corpse, while Stiles was trapped by chains, unable to save his friend.  
Jackson going feral, chasing and hunting Stiles throughout the night until finally his fangs slipped inside of Stiles’s neck.  The cold was real, as his life slipped away under Jackson’s howl.  
Though the worst was always Derek.  The feel and touch of…    
…  
No, Stiles refused to remember those nightmares.   
In the end, Stiles refused to sleep any more.  All it brought was despair.  Grueling, painful despair.  Even going home to his Dad’s for a single night didn’t help matters.    
No matter where he went,the darkness was inescapable.  
He’d called Deaton countless times, only to get a voice mail.  Like Melissa, he'd gone off the radar completely.  The Nightmares weren’t normal, and he couldn’t find anything in the Hale library.  The internet was fairly useless.  Even most of the werewolf websites for “bitten youth” didn’t have jack shit.    
In the end, he couldn’t even ask Derek.  He didn’t want what would happen next.  A trip for scans at the local hospital, and being told that he’d end up being the same as his mother.  A demented case.  

Really, it all made sense now.  The imaginary person, Swiles?  Shadow Syndrome didn’t exist, Peter had attested to that.

Vivid scenes that weren’t really there? His friends sleeping with him? Ridiculous.

Melissa lying to him?  Melissa would never lie to him.  

The nightmares were the final straw.  Lucid nightmares that felt so real. His mother had reacted the same way.

Though…  As a werewolf, he shouldn’t have any diseases.  It had been one of the primary reasons for taking the bite.  His mother’s genetic heritage might one day bring the darkness to his mind as well.

Really, there was only one way to know the truth.   

He had to see if the nightmares happened during the daytime.  They had for his mother.  

So if he staved off sleep for enough days, he should possibly be able to self-experiment.  If he had the real night terrors while awake, then he had reason to be concerned.  If not?  There was more to this than he thought.  
Fueled on less than 1 hour of sleep from the past three days since Peter’s coming to the house, Stiles stumbled in the kitchen, dropping most of fresh towels he’d gotten from the laundry.    
“Damn,” Stiles muttered quietly.  He bent down to pick them up, only to stumble and fall to the ground alongside them.    
Groaning, Stiles tried not to find pleasure in his head on the warm fresh towels.  They were not pillows.  He also refused to admit that the kitchen floor was incredibly comfortable and cold, like an ice pack to his wounded state.  
“Uh…  Stiles?  You okay there buddy?” Isaac asked.  
Looking up from what might possible be a bed in the next twenty seconds, Stiles saw Isaac watching over him.  
Stiles groaned, and slammed his eyes shut as he made himself comfortable.    
“No.  I’m like on day 3 of no sleep, and it sucks.  I thought wolves didn’t NEED sleep, it was just sort of a thing they did to pass the time!  What the fuck gives?!” he said, mentally swearing his still-changing body.  
“Dude.  You’re a bitten wolf.  You still need sleep like a normal human.  Super-no-sleep just sort of…  Just works for us.  I mean, you CAN try it and be functional, but you’ll be miserable,” Isaac answered.  
As the words sunk in, Stiles cried.  Then he laughed.  Then the craughed, crying and laughing in glorious harmony.  
He was going to have to sleep.  Soon.  Fuck bitten werewolf genes.  
Everything hurt.  His brain was mentally fried, his social bonds with his pack were at their usual level of general confusion over everything, and Season 4 of scrubs was missing from the DVD cases.  
 _“I hate EVERYTHING.  I hate ALL OF THIS!  FUCK EVERYTHING.  FUCK EVERYONE.  FUCK IT, I’M DONE.  DEATH WOULD BE PREFERABLY TO THIS BULLSHIT HAPPENING.  GETTING BITTEN WAS THE SINGLE WORST FUCKUP OF MY LIFE.  I MISS THE NORMAL.  I MISS NOT WORRYING I MISS EVERYTHING-”_  
Interrupting Stiles’ mental breakdown was Isaac, who easily lifted up Stiles’ body.    
“Come on, let’s get you to the couch.  Also, glad to see you’re about done with the bitten werewolf changes.  You should be done any day now, really.  I’m seeing the last of the changes already,” Isaac said supportively.  
Stiles groaned as more horrors just awaited him..  The changes had “weakened” him physically, while also bringing new benefits to his body.  
As his wolf body continued to grow into itself, Stiles had secondary characteristics finally coming in.  His proud abs were melting, and his hips were getting wider, creating a pear shaped figure.  Stiles also found his hair growing out faster than he could cut it, much to his dismay.  With testosterone being overpowered by his new Delta hormones, even his dick had started to shrink.  Every day, he saw less and less of Mr. Junior and became more and more aware of the growing “wetness” in his ass.    
Though in exchange for all of that, Stiles had new sensations that gave him an edge over his packmates.  His hearing was godlike, even better than Derek’s.  Obviously a fine tool to have when raising children, or overgrown children adults like Scott.  

Small cuts and scrapes didn’t even stay on his body for more than a second anymore, as his healing “generator” (as Derek referred to it as) went into overdrive.  Derek had explained it was necessary for multiple births, as well the necessity for giving life and energy to born-wolves.  There was mild research that werewolf mitochondria overfueling cells were the reason behind it, though it was just a theory.  

Then there was the mind reading.  Well, not exactly mind reading, but he could tell the emotional state of just about anyone in the pack without even being near them.  Definitely handy, though all Stiles could really feel were the oversexed Jackson and Scott and the obvious love blooming between them.  He’d have to have a talk with them when he wasn’t having a mental breakdown and contemplating death.

So caught up in his own self-analysis, Stiles didn’t feel as Isaac laid him on the couch, wrapped him up in a blanket, and was gently kissing his forehead.  
“Stiles, are you having trouble sleeping?” Isaac asked.  
Stiles sighed.  He had one cardinal rule in life when it came to Isaac.  Which was NEVER lie to Isaac, or never make Isaac worry needlessly.  The kid had been through enough, he deserved at least one friend that didn’t lie or BS to him.  So naturally, Stiles HAD to tell him the truth.  
“I’m having…  Like 24/7 brutal nightmares.  Nightmares I can FEEL.  I don’t even want to sleep anymore, let alone live, if I have to keep going through this,” Stiles admitted, curling into a ball as he brought his face to his knees.    
Isaac pouted.  “Stiles, why didn’t you tell anyone?  We’ve got like 50 werewolf medicine books with home remedies.  Just wait right here, I’ll be right back.  Here, watch the news,” he said, flipping on the television as he jogged into the kitchen.  
Sore as one could be, Stiles nearly fell asleep on the couch instantly, nightmares be damned.  At least, until the television caught his attention.  
  
 _“With the feral werewolf population on the rise, is it time to do something about it?  The wolf council says no, but the pro-human movement says YES!  Join us tonight as we sit and meet with Snow Zaur, head of the Human Purity Movement, and Doctor Kendrick Hale, daughter of Alpha Talia Hale and spokesperson for the Evolutionary Barrier Break,”_  
  
Stiles glanced up, and saw two very familiar faces.  They’d been in the news since before even Scott had been bitten.  
Dr. Kendrick Hale was Derek’s sister, barely 14, but already considered a “genius” in the world of science. She was widely regarded as the Einstein of their generation.   Despite her neon blue hair and clearly “emo-inspired” wardrobe giving her a more youthful vibe that screamed “rock star”, she’d been able to unlock the werewolf “code” of genetics and believed that further study could break the barrier between humans and werewolves, leading the world into a new line of evolution.  
Naturally, the Zaur Family, basically the werewolf racists of the world, had used their considerable wealth and affluence to injunction her research.  In their eyes, humans should ALWAYS stay human, and the evolutionary differences between human and werewolf was “an unnatural abomination”.  They funded the Westboro Baptist Church, if that was any inclination of their level of “crazy”.  
Snow Zaur, a 60 something year old man with snowy white hair and a clear “villain” wardrobe of white suits, complete with stereotypical eye scar.  
  
 _“What my opponent fails to realize is that the Evolutionary Barrier Break would virtually ELIMINATE all human-born diseases in those who would choose to undergo genetic treatment!  Cancer would be a thing of the past!  AIDS would be GONE.  The amount of lives we could save is unprecendented in the history of mankind!  Without the need for a bite!  It would be a genetic treatment using werewolf cells, that’s all!” Kendrick shouted, on a table across from Snow._  
 _Snow chucked at her in response.  “Little girl, what you are proposing is an outright abomination.  You would take the purest of genetics, from God himself, and stain them with the blood of you..  Mongrel dogs.  I’d rather countless die in their own skin, than watch them live peacefully as you bitch-spawn,” he retorted._  
  
Stiles cringed.  Bitch-spawn was basically the werewolf equivalent of being called…  A particularly nasty word that should never be spoken in polite conversation.  He didn’t feel the insult personally yet, but Derek and Isaac virtually wolfed out when they heard it.  
  
“OH YEAH?  WELL THANK GOD ONLY YOUR BRAIN-WASHED FAMILY TAKES YOU SERIOUSLY, OR I MIGHT BE WORRIED,” Kendrick shot back.  
Snow glared at her.    
“What?  OH, you’re shocked we know?  How about you tell the audience all about your “conditioning” that you put your family through, that includes endless streams of mental breaking and the use of illegal illusionary magic-”  
  
The TV shut off, as Isaac came back through the room.  He shut off the lights, turned on one of the ceiling fans, and moved to Stiles’ side.  In his hands was a silver tray, with a glass teapot that was steaming.  Stiles could see the herbs swimming inside the green liquid, in the final stages of brewing.  Two cups were beside it, fragile little cups that looked to be for children rather than grown adults..  
“Okay…  Trust me, this is going to be the best remedy for you,” Isaac offered.  Slowly, he poured the glimmering teal green liquid into one of the tiny cups.  The portion was barely enough to fill half of the teacup.  
“What’s this?” Sties asked, sniffing at the drink.  It smelled of an odd combination of herbs from the top shelf.  Rosemary, lilac, and what Stiles was pretty sure was a bag from Derek’s “do not touch” collection of tea bags.    
Isaac smiled, snuggling in next to Stiles on the couch.  “It’s called Nightraen Tea.  If you drink it, it forces you to go to sleep and shuts off the part of your brain that creates dreams.  Trust me, it works.  It’s like you’re oblivious to the world for 12 hours.  It’s the best night’s sleep of your life, no dreams included,” he said, tapping the cup.  “I’ll show you how to brew it like Derek taught me, but be careful because a LITTLE goes a long ways.  Too much, and you’ll end up like Delta Van Winkle,” he offered playfully.  
Cautiously, Stiles brought it to his lips and sipped it.  Expecting some sort of off-brand tea flavoring, instead, Stiles was met with the taste of lime and sweetness.  Like a limeade.  He drank down the rest of it eagerly.  
Isaac retrieved the cup.  “It’ll take a little while.  As a bitten, it takes times to work through your blood stream.  Maybe…  Ten minutes or so?” he offered.    
Nodding, Stiles immediately felt his body get woozy.  As though fatigue were already setting in harder than it was before.  He felt tingles behind his eyes, and most of his thoughts were being switched off, one by one.  
Isaac manually moved stiles out of his ball-position and laid him out on the couch.  His head was tucked on top of a soft pillow, and his body covered in a large quilt that Derek brought from his first home.  feeling Stiles’ head, he could feel the secondhand anxiety and stress.  
“Tell me what’s wrong.  You haven’t been yourself since you moved in with us,” Isaac asked politely.  
Stiles’ eyes were fluttering in and out of consciousness already.  
“Nothn,” he blurred out of his mouth.  
Isaac shook his head.  “Come on Stiles, how many freaking times have you listened to me bitch and moan?  It’s totally your turn.  Come on, you can tell me ANYTHING.  Is it about the bite?  Being a Delta?  Stress over college?  Graduation?  Denmotherdom?  Did you get your first period yet?” he asked.  
As the tea began taking effect, Stiles laughed to himself.  
“Swiles says you guys wanna fuck me.  That I’m just…  Just a bitch,” he said in a loopy tone.  
Isaac’s eyes blew out.  “Swiles?  Who’s Swiles?!” he asked immediately.  The tea was pretty potent, especially to humans, but Isaac had never seen someone so effected by it.  
“My woof.  Cuz…  Cuz we don’t agree.  I don’t wanna be a bitch.  I just…  I just wanna be…  Famrey.  I wanna love Derek, but…  I don’t wanna share  Derek is..  DEREK IS SO HOT.  He likes me, Didja know that?!  Fuuuuck, Derek likes me.  So fucking sweet-,” Stiles explained, as his speech began to slur.  His eyes were GONE.  
“Your wolf?  What on earth are you talking about?” Isaac asked  Immediately, he pulled down the skin under Stiles’ eye, inspecting it closely.  Everything was normal.  Delta green eyes, with that ever so slight hinge of…  
Isaac growled, as fans shout out of his gums, and claws flashed in his hands.  “Stiles…  How long has this “wolf” been in you?” he asked angrily.  
Laughing drunkenly, Stiles just shook his head.  
“SWILES.  HIS NAME IS SWILES CUZ HES soooo emfingly cLEVER!  Get it?  STILES.  WITH A W.  CUz hez a woof!” he said, shifting uncomfortably under the bed.    
Isaac held Stiles’ neck with his hands  “Focus for me Stiles.  WHEN did the wolf show up?  Did he appear when you got the bite from Derek, or AFTER?” he shouted.  
As if in a moment of clarity, Stiles managed one final moment of clarity.  
“Just before I moved in,” he whispered.  “He…  He was NAKIE in my room!  NAKIE ISAAC!  With a micro dick!” he spat with a loud, immature giggle.  
Minutes later, Stiles was out cold, laughing as he passed out.  His chest rose and fell in rhythm, as he probably got his first good night’s sleep in days.  
Grateful that he was finally getting some rest, Isaac breathed easily.  Though his face darkened.  Moving forward, Isaac took a deep breath as he pulled up Stiles’ nightshirt.  Easily, he flipped him over, revealing his frail back.  

Nothing.  His back was normal, with the outline of his spine.

Though Isaac wasn’t fooled.  There was a mild stench.  One that might be passed off as not washing properly.  Though he knew there was more to it.

Isaac knew that vile stench.

He put his hand on Stiles’ back and took a deep breath.  “In the name of Fenrir, God of our kind, I call upon thee.  Disrupt the darkness before me, wipe away the illusions that plague my brother of blood.  As a child of Hale, your bond is our promise,” Isaac whispered.

A very weak spark of purple came from Isaac’s hand, covering Stiles.  In an instant, the vilest of smells crossed Isaac’s nose.  

Rotten, disgusting flesh mixed with poison.  He had to cover his nose to stop himself from vomiting.

Isaac growled, taking note of the black and violet tattoo right on the center of Stiles’ back that had finally appeared.  The Greek symbol for Delta in its marveous emerald coloring, inside of a sharp triangular-shaped purple eye.  From inside the eye, a Cobra snake was slowly traveling up Stiles’s spine, about 6 inches away from his neck.  Its fangs were bared, preparing to strike and bite.  

“For fuck’s sake, how did Derek and I miss this?  It’s inches away…  INCHES!” he growled angrily himself, slapping himself on the face.  “Goddamnit…  JACKSON!  SCOTT.  QUIT FUCKING AND GET DOWN HERE!” Isaac shrieked.  

In a rush of clothes and mild swearing, Jackson and Scott did as they were told.  Coming downstairs from Jackson’s room, the half dressed men glared angrily at Isaac.  
“Isaac, we’re off school the whole damn week thanks to Peter, and while he’s not here, we’d like a little PRIVACY!” Scott spat angrily.  
Jackson nodded, growling under his breath.  
Their rage wavered as they reached the landing, and spotted Stiles on the couch.  Or more importantly, the mark on his back.  
Scott blinked.  “Uh…  Wow, when did Stiles get ink?  He passes out when they even so much as gives him a flu shot.  No way he’d stand stil for a tat,” he said.  
Moving to Stiles’ side, Jackson smelled the mark.  “Not ink.  That’s his goddamn skin being poisoned.  That’s…  Wolfsbane and a wolf’s blood, mixed together.  It's...  It's being clung to his skin...  By..  Something,” he answered immediately.  
Both Jackson and Scott turned to Isaac, with their Beta blue eyes exploding in a frigid anger.    
“Watch him.  I’m calling Peter and Derek.  If that fucking snake moves even an INCH, bite down on it and make sure it HURTS.  It shouldn’t since Stiles and his brain are conked out now, but I’m not taking any chances,” Isaac ordered.  His eyes meant business, even colder than Jackson or Scott’s combined.  
Jackson and Scott exchanged peculiar looks.  In terms of pack hierarchy, Isaac was at the bottom floor.  To give orders to the second in command?  Blasphemy.  
Though Scott did eventually nod, showing his approval for Isaac’s decision.  
Walking away from the living area and out to the front porch, Isaac snagged the cell phone from his pocket and hit Derek’s number on speed dial.  Within seconds, the other line picked up.  
“What’s wrong?” Derek asked immediately.  
Isaac rolled his eyes.  Derek had demanded that they not disturb him while talking to Peter.  That their meeting was of the utmost importance to the pack itself.  Though of course, the Alpha’s first words would be of concern, and not irritation at being interrupted.  
“Derek, it’s Isaac.  Put me on speaker, I need to talk to Peter and you about something,” he demanded.  
“Peter speaking,” a cold voice answered a few seconds later.  
Isaac turned back to look inside the window Stiles, watching him sleep softly.  Moving closer, Isaac watched as Jackson forced Stiles’ eyes open, as if to check on him.  The Delta green eyes were being bled into with a forceful violet.  While unconscious, over half of Stiles’s eyes were a completely different color.    
“Cut your meeting short.  We’ve got a Slavery Mark to deal with on our hands.  Has to be a Sigma wolf covering it up.  We would have felt the mark otherwise.  Powerful illusion magic on top of everything else.  Has to be a human, wolves can’t use magic at this level,” Isaac said darkly.  
Isaac could hear glass shattering on the other end of the phone.  
“WHO!?  WHO ARE THEY TRYING TO TAKE?!” Derek shouted.  
“Stiles,” Isaac answered immediately.  
Even if Isaac hadn’t been on the phone with Derek, he was pretty sure he could have heard the roaring clear across town.  His smartphone’s touchscreen cracked.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles had been moved to Derek’s bedroom. His marked back had been exposed to everyone in the pack, while Peter was already busy painting runes around it with his own blood-pricked finger.

“What the fuck is all this Peter?!” Derek demanded. He paced back and forth in the corner of the room, while the rest of the pack stayed CLEAR out of his way.  He had been frothing at the mouth ever since he and Peter had gotten back home.  If there was any indication that Derek and Stiles were mates, it would have been that moment.

Peter shot Derek a serious glare, as if to calm his nephew down.

“A Slavery Mark. It’s a spell cast on the centermost of the spinal cord. It attacks the individual’s nervous system, and is a parasitic class spell. Should the host’s willpower become weak enough, the serpent you see on Stiles’ back will rise so long as the willpower is broken.  Once the owner is back in control, the snake can no longer rise.  Unfortunately, once the mind is open for infiltration, at a breaking point you might say, the snake will bite and overtake the host at the centermost point of the neck. The host’s soul is sucked out and thrown into the air through a magical process, leaving only a husk behind that can be manipulated by any order the spellcaster wished,” Peter explained.

Derek growled, carving a cut into the upholstery of Stiles' desk chair. “HOW? HOW DID WE MISS THIS? HOW DID SOMEONE CAST THIS ON STILES?!” he screamed.

Peter shook his head. “No idea on how they cast it. It’s practically a spell only the strongest human mages could cast, and even then there are only 4 or 5 in the world that I think could cast it correctly. Someone born into magic, trained from birth. As or how we missed it? Well, thanks to Isaac finding it for us, it’s pretty damn obvious that a Sigma is involved,” he explained.

“What’s a Sigma?” Scott asked, clearly in the dark from all of this.

Isaac turned to his pack brother. “A Sigma is a special class of wolf, kind of like how Stiles is a Delta. A Sigma wolf is basically like a Shadow Wolf. They’re masters of the mind and soul, and are powerful illusionists. In fact, merely making eye contact with one is enough to seal your fate. They have access to your mind, and can make you believe you’re seeing anything. When that happens, they can even invade your body and meld into your skin to try and assert a real illusion,” he replied.

“That’s LEGAL?” Jackson spat.

Peter shook his head. “Of course not. Sigmas are very closely regulated. As children, their powers are chained to a point where they cannot directly assault another wolf in broad daylight. Though... Under the moon’s power, they retain roughly 50% of their full abilities.  That is out of our hands,” he said angrily.

“Explains Stiles’ “real" nightmares, and how he was so fucked up in the middle of the night. I’m guessing the illusion of his slave mark is easy enough to control, even with the chained up powers in the daytime,” Derek said, having mildly calmed down.

Jackson folded his arms. “Hate to say it, but... I think we can assume, after seeing the way Stiles’ father is, but... He probably just walked right into Stiles’ house while he was sleeping and... Took over.  Not like Stiles had much in the way of guardians before he moved in with us,” he explained.

Peter nodded. “Very plausible. A Sigma would make their own sounds deafened through illusions, so even after Stiles had been bitten, he couldn’t have heard it,” he explained.

Scott rubbed his forehead as a headache began to form. “So uh.. Isaac, how’d you know all this shit? Cuz, no offense to you, but... You’re not exactly OLD like Peter is,” he explained.

Isaac glared away, huffing. “My father tried to use a slavery mark on me. To... Turn me into a mindless sex slave for his pleasure. It didn’t work. Turns out he didn’t have the power to cast it right and neither did the six or seven mages he hired to try it. It backfired and nearly burned down our house on the last attempt,” he said, clenching his fist. “Then he paid a Sigma to brainwash me. For three weeks, I’d have nightmares of watching a fake me pleasuring my father. The illusion me LOVED it, and I had to watch. Didn’t exactly work. No way in hell was I ever going to give in to that sick fuck,” he spat disgustingly.

The room went quiet. Isaac never talked about the past, and especially about the many depravities he’d gone through.

Scott shook his head, regretting the question. “So... What can we do to help him!?” he asked worriedly.

Peter sighed. “Until Stiles wakes up, there isn’t much that we can do. Once he knows of the Slavery Mark, his willpower should be able to fight it into submission. Afterwards, I can remove it once it’s weakened enough with relative ease,” he explained.

“The Sigma?” Derek asked.

Peter shook his head. “Nothing we can do. Stiles will have to force him out on his own, or the Sigma would have to come out when it was ready. Though based on how Stiles’ body isn’t fully changed yet, that may be years down the line,” he replied despairingly.

Derek growled. “Why didn’t he tell us? Why didn’t he say something was WRONG?!” he screamed, slamming his fist into the wall and leaving a small crater.

Quietly, Isaac moved to Derek’s side, pulled him closer and put his lips in Derek’s ears.

 _“Because sometimes we’re too ashamed to admit we’re in trouble, asshole.  Or maybe because he didn't have a family like you, who would be eager to help us out,”_ he spat angrily.

Leaning back up from Derek, Isaac turned to the rest of the pack.  "Don't know why any of you are worried.  Stiles puts up with you assholes on a daily basis.  Five bucks says he sasses the Sigma out of him," he said, plopping down on the bed beside Stiles, and gently moving the boy's hair out of his eyes.  

++

Stiles opened his eyes up. He expected to see the TV screen in the living room, or maybe even Isaac by his side with more of that amazing tea. Instead, he was treated to a completely white world.

Everything was white. Like limbo, or one of those fucked up scenes from Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood with the creepy eye dude. He really needed to watch that again, it put his own troubles in a nice perspective.  

Standing up, Stiles looked down. He was wearing his casual day clothes from back when he was a human and could get away with wearing those kind of outfits. His body wasn’t the same as it’d been in the real world. No pear shaped figure, no long hair, and his muscle tone was back.  Though he felt his claws and fangs, clearly retractable.  

 _"I'm...  Me again?"_ Stiles asked himself, clearly confused.

He glanced around, trying to figure out where he was. Unfortunately, every direction was nothing but pure white.

Well, except for the emerald green doors, looking straight out o the land of Oz. The symbol for Delta was emblazoned upon them in the middle.

He walked towards them, surprised at how loud the echo of his footsteps were. Reaching out to the door, he tried to push it. Sealed shut.

“I really am going crazy,” Stiles said to himself quietly.

“Apparently not enough,” Swiles replied.

Leaping out of his skin, Stiles backed into the doors.

Swiles was behind him. though he didn’t look the same. Things were... Off. Like his face and body were half-melted, in a wax-figure Summer heatwave sort of way. As if he were in pain.

With a deep gulp, Stiles leaned off the door and tried to move towards Swiles as bravely as he could.

“I know you’re not my wolf. You’ve been manipulating me from the goddamn START. I know everything that happened to me since meeting you have been a LIE. So give me a fucking straight answer. WHAT ARE YOU?” Stiles shouted.

Swiles shuddered. A blob of his chest melted through his shirt and hit the floor audibly.

“Master tried to break you easily,” Swiles answered.

“Master?” Stiles asked. He eyed Swiles carefully. He seemed to be... Disintegrating.

“Master just wanted you to have a lot of babies. More born wolves he could use! Life as a...  Life as a bitch would have been a good life for you. You could have had a life still... A life with your pack. All Master wanted was your babies.  Babies with all of your pack.  Master...  Master could have controlled them too.  Making...  Making powerful babies.  Strong babies for Master,” Swiles said, struggling to step forward, half steps at a time.

Stiles stood his ground. His formed a fist with his hands

“But... You wouldn’t break. Master had to... Make you see things in a harsher light,” he stammered out, almost laughing. “The nurse was easy to control. Master didn’t even have to leave his home. Humans are so weak to Master. He just... Planted a seed in her mind. Made her forget everything she knew about wolves. She... She thought she told you the truth,” he spat, falling to the ground as he tripped on his feet. “He thought if you cared more about your pack, you’d give in and submit to Master. But... You still didn’t give in. Master was very angry when your Alpha gave you the truth. Master thought you’d be bred that night. That your Alpha would do what Alphas do. But... Your Alpha is a failure. He did not take what was his...  You are all...  Different,” Swiles mused, crying queitly.

"So that's why you tried to make me into a slut?!  For some fucked up Master of yours?!" Stiles shouted, feeling ill in his stomach.  

“Master was mad. Master said for me to break you. Break you and make you like me.  You would be Master's Delta.  He would not have the right babies, but...  You could be Master's precious Delta.  You would be master, and master would be you! I.. I failed Master,”Swiles sobbed, holding his arm as though it were on fire. “PLEASE MASTER! GIVE SIGMA ZERO FIVE ANOTHER CHANCE! PLEASE! PLEASE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE MASTER!” he sobbed.

Stiles shivered. His skin was ice cold, and he felt another presence inside of his mind for all of a second.

“THANK YOU MASTER!” Swiles pleaded, finally able to stand on his own two feet.

Stiles watched as sparks of black violet cascaded over Swiles. His body was melting into a goo, evaporating as it touched the floor and off of his skin. His slender physique was replaced with the body of Adonis. The date night apparel he’d worn since so long ago was replaced with a skin tight leather armor that showed off each and every throbbing muscle in his body.

His right arm was exposed from the armor, showing a viper tattoo that went up his arm, and was biting into his neck.

Swiles’ hair was replaced with a short cut blonde. The greek symbol for Sigma was tattooed on his forehead, cut in half with an Alpha mark covering it.

If he weren’t some psychotic melty nightmare man, he’d be fairly attractive, on a GQ level.  Like a surfer dude hottie.

Except for his eyes. His eyes were dead, poisoned in a dark violet.

“Who are you?” Stiles asked, as the stranger waled closer and closer to Stiles. His claws were all out, longer than anyone else’s in his pack. As if they hadn’t been trimmed in years, if ever.  It was clear that they were so elongated as to be painful to the user.  Not even Derek let his claws get half that size.

“Master calls me Sigma Zero Five. Master says I was named Ethan before Master became me. I am not Ethan anymore. I am Master’s Sigma Zero Five,” he said dully.

Stiles found it hard to breathe. This Ethan guy wad dead on the inside. If he couldn’t even call himself by his name, he was...

He was broken. His mind had been broken somehow.

Like how he’d tried to break Stiles.  

Whoever Ethan was, he was long gone.

Ethan sighed.

“There is no time left. Master says your friends know the truth. Master says I have failed. All I am good for now is making sure your soul can no longer remain inside the recesses of your mind.,” he said blandly. Ethan signaled all around himself. “Master says I can’t do much here as his Sigma. This is what little of your mind is still functional, thanks to the herbs in the tea. This white world is something Master can still allow me to exist inside.  Your soul and my soul are all that remain. If you die in this world? Your mind is lost forever.  Even should I fail my Master, my body still exists,” he explained.

Stlies growled at Ethan. He felt his fangs lengthen from his gums and his claws come out of his nails. Despite the fact that Ethan had a 50 pounds of SOLID muscle on top of him, he was going to actually have to fight this asshole. Inside of his own mind. Or become a drooly slave to some self-important “Master”.  More importantly, there was no fucking way he was letting Ethan go.  NOBODY touched Stiles' fucking pack except him.

Ethan growled. “When your body wakes up, they cannot stop Master’s mark from taking you. You will be Master’s Delta Zero One. I will give my life to see you come to Master’s side. If you offer yourself now, Master promise to spare your family.,” Ethan said, stopping inches away from Stiles’ face.

 _“Don’t give up.”_ a soft voice whispered.

A loud twist of metal echoed in Stiles’ mind. Like a lock clicking open.

Stiles leaned against the door, with the back of his converse against the door, ready to bolt.

Ethan moved his claw to Stiles’ neck. “Master says your time is up,” he explained. “Yes or no?  Will you serve Master?" 

Pushing off against the door, Stiles vaulted over Ethan, landing on the opposite side and running into the white void as fast as he could.

_"Just gotta last long enough 'till I wake up!  I'll outrun the bastard, and when I wake up, I'll go to Peter.  Peter can-"_

Unfortunately, Ethan appeared out of thin air. Stiles ran into his chest, bouncing off the muscle and thudding against the ground.

“Oh fuck no, you are NOT allowed to be fast AND strong!” Stiles shouted, using his claws to reach up and try to strike at Ethan’s chest.

Ethan caught his hand, and crushed every bone in his wrist in an instant.

“AH!”“ Stiles screamed, in anticipation of pain.

Instead, it never came. Both Ethan and Stiles stared at his wrist in awe. The shattered bones cracked as they re-formed, and steam shout out of Stiles’ hand, burning Ethan’s palm in a raze of boiling heat.

Ethan cringed in pain, giving Stiles an opportunity to pull his hand away, and use his non-recovering set of claws to attack again. He cut at Ethan’s chest, leaving a thin line of scratches on his chest, and generating a mild amount of blood.  He then let his fangs out, and bit Ethan's good shoulder, feeling the blood explode between his teeth, and generating a bad taste of iron in Stiles' mouth.

Countering, Ethan used his foot to kick Stiles in the gut, forcing him down to the ground. With his non-burned hand, Ethan used his long claws to strike at Stiles’ face, and followed up with another attack at his open arm, and one final strike at Stiles' jugular.

The force of the attack threw him backwards, rolling on the ground a good distance away from Ethan.

"That should be enough to cut your arteries.  You may be a soul, but the pain is all too-" Ethan said, cutting himself off as he watched Stiles.  

Once again, Stiles glanced down at the wound on his arm, as no pain rippled through his body.

The cut on his arm (and what he assumed happened to his face and neck as well) steamed shut in an instant. Stiles’ eyes glared open. Moments ago, he could see bone and muscle from the deep level of the cut Ethan had left behind.  He nearly vomited by looking at his own skeleton.

So not only had it not hurt, but his body was already fully healed. There was no scar, no injury, and his arm was already fully functional.  He moved his hand, as if to confirm what he already felt.

“How?” Stiles asked himself, looking up from the ground. Based on where he’d landed, he was at the edge of the door he’d appeared at first. What had once been sealed was now opened. A thin strip of light glowed down the center, where the doors had been ever so slightly opened.

Scrambling up, Stiles glared at Ethan. The man hadn’t moved since the last attack.  His chest and shoulder were still bleeding.  His healing was a lot more like Derek or Scott's.  Which turned out to be a hell of a lot slower than his own.

Ethan’s eyes were dead, but his lips moving at a thousand miles a minute. His conversation with himself was silent, and Stiles couldn’t hear a word of it.

At least, until Ethan held his left hand up in the air, and dug it into his snake tatooe.

Stiles covered his mouth, Ethan was LITERALLY digging into his own skin and muscle.

The Sigma screamed in agony, as he pulled out a live snake from his body, sparks flooding the region.

Stiles held his stomach, sickened by the smell of it. Like poison, blood, and fleshy rot.  Death.  

Ethan’s heart was racing as he dropped the snake. Using his near-destroyed arm, he held it out over the snake, which was hissing violently.

 _"From my flesh I give my Master hold.  Use my life to transmit your own.  Come forth Master, and make me whole-"_ Ethan chanted, in a deeper voice that was not his own.  

Sparks flew out of his hands, deep violet sparks that cascaded in a shower over the snake, which absorbed it.

Like a scene straight out of Alladin, the serpent expanded, grew and twisted into a blob of black. It grew arms, feet, and a solid body. Its cobra hood twisted around the snake’s head and covered the rest of its body, shifting scales into leather. In the end, what had once been a small snake was soon a cloaked and hooded figure six feet in height, with a thin build.

Stiles shook, stepping away from the figure. He could feel it. Intense waves of magic, stronger than even Deaton had when he helped their pack destroy a Demon that had been threatening the school, just a few weeks after Jackson changed. No... This figure could destroy Deaton a thousand times over and never break a sweat.  Hell, this figure could destroy his pack.  

Ethan bowed to the stranger’s side, down on one knee. “Master, I’m sorry... I cannot defeat him. His body has finished the change. Killing him is impossible.  Without my Shadows, I...  I cannot do your bidding Master, I'm sorry,” he whispered shamefully.

The figure chuckled. “I see that, Sigma Zero Five. You have failed me. Seems I will need a sixth sigma. How bothersome. You worthless shadows are hard to find,” he said. The man’s voice was deep, cold, and showed little to no emotion.

Slowly, he rose his hand to Ethan’s forehead. “Begone useless one.  Your services are no longer required,” he spat.

The mark from Ethan’s head shattered in glass, and the tattooed mark on his arm vanished in a violent stream of blood and black blood spurting. Ethan fell to the ground, a lifeless heap.

Stiles growled at the sight.

The cloaked man chuckled.

“He’s not dead.  As much as I'd love to kill him, I'm just an illusion here myself.  Or rather, a very good illusion.  Sigma Zero Five though?  Just a mere husk at this point taking up space in your mind. I wouldn’t worry too much, you can shove him out when you wake up. No hard feelings, really.  I don't mind that you bested him.  At the end of the day, I planned on replacing him anyway. Most Sigmas are chained and therefore worthless to me.  I need a newborn, without the Were Council's nonsensical chains,” Master said, now stepping forward to Stiles.

“My name is Master. Though you? Stiles Stilinksi, you may call me by my first name, Amos. An honor no other wolf has been bestowed,” the male said, bowing before Stiles.

Still growling, Stiles didn’t reciprocate this politeness.

Amos hummed, moving up from his bow and looking straight at Stiles. His glowing red eyes from beneath the cloak were all Stiles could make of him.

“Tell me, Stiles Stilinksi, do you know of the origin of werewolves?” he asked, like a teacher patronizing a child.

”Missed that lesson, sorry.  I'm more interested in what you want, why you're here, and how come you tried to make me into a baby factory,” Stiles spat back grimly.

Amos sighed. “Ah, the ignorance of youth.  So impatient...  All in good time, my boy.. Well then, allow me to share with you the old tale of Fenrir.  I believe that would be the best place to start,” he whispered playfully.

Stiles piqued an eyebrow. Fenrir was something out of Norse mythology. He was enough of a Thor nerd from the comic series to know that much.

“Fenrir was the God Wolf of the Heavens, said to be as large as entire castles in the mortal realm. He was given life by the Gods to act as their guardian and all encompassing beast protector to ward off the invading darkness.  Fenrir was, for all intents and purposes, the Gaurdian of the Gods.  A protector.  What all wolves of our world have always been," he explained.

Stiles narrowed his eyes in deep thought.  Derek had said as much before, and explained the pack mentality.  Not to mention the overbearing protectiveness he felt towards his friends since the bite.  Especially Isaac.

Amos continued, clearly enjoying his speech.  

"What the Gods did not realize, until far too late, was that Fenrir was the only being capable of destroying them.  A fact they learned after Loki, the Trickster God, was slain by Fenrir himself, after attempting to overthrow Odin,” Amos said, holding out his gloved hand. Atop the leathery pattern was white wolf’s head, in an almost rune-shaped design. “They feared Fenrir, their loyal protector. They FEARED that which swore fealty to his masters, and wanted it DEAD for doing its job as the protector. The INSULT was deafening. Can you imagine, Stiles Stilinksi, if your most loyal friend feared you? A friend that you had never done a single wrong to? A friend who you had sworn to protect? For us, the loyal and proud wolves? It is akin to the most disgusting of betrayals,” Amos said, clearly angry beyond compare.

Stiles relaxed slightly. Amos had something about him... Something weird. It was the same feeling he had around Peter. Though instead of the comforting thought of Peter being self-sacrificing for the Pack, Amos was the opposite. If he’d been in the pack, Amos would have been pack-sacrificing for himself, too proud of his own power to let such a thing go to waste. Amos had the exact opposite heart of Peter.  He was sickening to be around, and Stiles couldn't stand even smelling his heart.

Amos didn't seem bothered by the disgusted wrinkling of Stiles' nose.

“Fenrir was eventually tricked. Following the order of the Gods, he allowed himself to be taken to Earth, where they asked him to remain and protect the moral realm so long as he lived.  They "rewarded" him with an easier task, and gave him the "honor" of serving mankind, and becoming a God all himself.  He was, at last, an equal," Amos said, in a sickening sadness.  Even Stiles could feel his heart shattering.

"Once on Earth, the Gods struck him down. He was separated into 26 demi-humans. The first lycanthropes of the world, each with a portion of Fenrir’s power separated amongst them. For the foolish Gods could never actually DESTROY Fenrir without losing the power they’d poured into him themselves. No.. They await the day when Fenrir’s ancestors are long gone, and their precious powers will return to them,” Amos growled, finally moving closer and closer to Stiles’s side.

Amos put his strong arm around Stiles’ neck.  Like how a father would do to a son.

“An old tale... Lost to the modern youth. Only the old ones know of our true history anymore.  They don't know the suffering and betray that the original werewolves felt.  To have their loyalty betrayed like that?  No...  The youth today don't know of our kind's original suffering. They don’t know of the grandiose power we once knew, my dear Stiles Stilinksi,” he laughed.

Stiles looked up into Amos’ face. Not that he could really see much. The hood obscured pretty much everything about him. Except the eyes.

The Alpha red eyes.  

“It would be years before those 26 werewolves gave birth to children that mimicked the powers of the old God Fenrir.  Or that their children would begot children.  Centuries until we gave the bite to humans accidentally in your Middle Ages.  Only in the last century were these 26 types given names, giving our kind a symbol of pride, so that they knew what they were in our order. A symbol we stole from the Greek alphabet. I’m sure you’re aware of it?” Amos asked.

Stiles nodded. “From Alpha to Zeta.  So there really are 26 types of werewolves then?” he answered weakly.

Amos smiled. At least, Stiles could sense he was smiling. Whatever he was, Stiles could read his emotion like a book. He was EXCITED.

“Yes. All of our kind exhibits a classification of power from Fenrir.  Sadly, over 90% of them fall into the standard three of Alpha, Beta and Omega.  The need for most of Fenrir's old power has died as we have evolved as a race.  Though...  Not entirely," Amos said sneakily. 

"You, my dear Delta, have probably seen your power,” Amos said, tracing where Ethan had broken his wrist, only to have it healed instantly. “Fenrir’s immortal heart. Many of your time see it as a way to bear children and bring life into the world in multiple litters.  The heart of a "mother", giving everything to his or her children, and bestowing strength to the next generation.   For the God Beast? It kept him alive, despite the many enemies that would come and attempt to destroy his masters,” he chuckled warmly.  Amos took Stiles' hand and kissed his wrist that had been cut.  "You, my boy...  Will never know pain.  Death is...  Death is but an impossibility for you, should you wish it to be!  Is this not wonderful?" he exclaimed brilliant.

Stiles grimaced. He knew he had rather powerful healing as compared to the rest of his friends, and had seen it first hand now with Ethan, but... Immortal healing?

“Think of it Stiles Stilinksi. Think of what would happen if all of Fenrir’s children were brought together as one! The Alpha’s wisdom. The strength of a Beta. Mastery of illusions, courtesy of a Sigma. IMMORTALITY from a Delta! Think what would happen if all 26 classes came together again? Joined as one body?” Amos shouted, like a child getting everything they wanted for Christmas.

“You'd create a God.  You'd have Fenrir,” Stiles spat.

Amos nodded. “So bright. So gifted. Truly, I was wise to wait.  Clara Hale's heart pales in comparison to yours.  Even Min Xiao Long can't compare. Patience is waiting for perfection. Sadly, how I wished I’d waited for someone better than Ethan... Pathetic, really.  I could have had you, if I'd had a better Sigma,” he said, glancing towards the still unmoving body of Ethan.

Finally, Stiles was brave enough to shove Amos’ arm away from him.

“So why are you telling me all of this?   What does this have to do with me?!  You can’t kill me here and just take me over, I think Ethan made that plenty clear. If I really am this... Immortal Heart, we can be here for eternity,” Stiles replied darkly.

Master Amos chuckled. “No, Sigma Zero Five is quite the failure. He should have killed you right away, on that first night when you . But now? Well, killing you would not only be impossible, but also serve no purpose. Besides, you have impressed me Stiles Stilinksi. More than you already had.  I respect you now, Stiles Stilkinksi.  You have bested me in my attempts to wring your soul to myself.  You are not like the rest of the mindless thralls I've captured,” he answered quietly.

Stiles watched him carefully. No uptick. Amos wasn’t lying.

“There have been roughly 60 Delta births in the last decades. I watched them all from birth, seeing what they would been as they grew up. All pathetically inadequate. Sure, they would have sufficed, but they wouldn’t have been the perfect Delta for our perfect Fenrir. No... It wasn’t until I watched you take the bite.. It was... It was flawless,” Amos said, cupping Stiles’ face in his gloved hands. “The reason you became a Delta... It was all thanks to your-” he said, stopping as he examined his glove. The tips of his fingers were slowly petrifying.

Amos sighed. “Ah. Our time is coming to a close.  I curse that worthless Sigma's body.  What a lowly cow...  Alas, I’ll not digress any further,” he moaned, as if in a great deal of sadness.

“I am telling you this because I want to make you an offer, Stiles. An offer to the one who stood against me and survived to tell the tale,” Master replied, stepping backwards.

Stiles staggered away from Amos, fists up and ready to fight.

Master held his hand out, as if in an offer of friendship. “Join me Stiles Stilkinski. You wouldn’t be the mindless slave like the others. You and I would rule together inside the same body. We could be a God. With your inner strength and my wisdom, we could be more than Fenrir was himself. We could be more than any other being in this world.  No one would dare strike cruelly at us ever again,” he asked warmly.

“You... You what?!” Stiles shouted.

Amos’s heart was aching, Stiles could feel it. A mixture of hope and despair.

“I have 21... Well, I suppose 20 now, thanks to Ethan. I have 20 of the classes. Flawless specimens of the best and brightest werewolves of our generation. We’ll see it soon, Stiles Stilinksi. Fenrir will be REBORN!” Amos shouted brightly.

“For what end?! Sorry, but honestly, when a psychotic madman goes on and on about being a God, there’s usually a very BAD reason for it,” Stiles shouted.

Amos shook his head. “I’m not psychotic. I am merely preparing for the eventual end of our kind,” he said grimly, clearly irritated by Stiles’ outburst. “There will come a day when our kind will NEED our God back. Whether it be the humans, the Gods who betrayed us, or the foolish Hunters that attack us, Fenrir will be the one to stop them. WE will be the one to stop them,” he answered.

No uptick.

Amos wasn't lying.  Even his emotional aura was on the right wavelength.

"Stiles...  We live in a time of uncertainty like no other.  You've seen it yourself, my dear boy.  The Zaurs.  The Hunters who still wish to see our end.  Humans who fight and bicker over our kind.  Half wanting our blood in their veins, and the other half wanting our blood seeping on the floor.  All I am doing is preparing for the day when we fight for our own kind.  Think of it...  Think of your family.  Think of Isaac...   Would you ever want him to suffer anymore than he already has?" Amos said weakly.

It took Stiles all of ten seconds to shake his head.

“I decline,” Stiles spat.

Amos glared at him. “May I ask why you would decline this?” he asked.

Stiles clenched his fist. “No, you may NOT,” he spat back.  Though slowly, he did bare his green eyes into Amos'.  "Though I can say...  If you were as NOBLE as you say you were?  You wouldn't treat people like you treated Ethan.  You wouldn't call them your fucking TOOLS.  You wouldn't need slavery marks.  You wouldn't NEED a sigma to confuse people into doing your bidding.  If you were a REAL Alpha?  You'd have followers to your cause.  Not slaves," he growled angrily.

There was a bland amount of silence between them. At least, until Amos let loose a deep sigh.

“Very well then, I shall accept your answer for now. You’re young. I don’t expect you to understand the grandness of any of this...  So naive, really...” Master whispered. Slowly, Amos‘ body began melting away in a heap of ash, starting at his fingertips that had begun petrifying moments ago. Starting with his fingertips, Master admired the slow decay with pleasure. “If only I weren’t so far away... My magic could have allowed me more time with you. Though maybe time wasn’t the right motivator anyway. No.. No, you’re too young. I see that now," he muttered quietly.

Shaking his head, Amos soon had lost his entire arm to ash. “I won’t bother contacting you in person. Nor will I harbor any ill will to the Hales, as it is you I want.  I assume should I attack them anyway, our already strained relationship would be broken,” he remarked, falling to his knees as his feet and legs dissolved away.

“But Stiles, I’m not giving up on you, my remarkable little Delta. You’ll come to see the truth, and when you do? I’ll be there to bring you into my Kingdom,” he said, as his body fell to the floor. His chest slowly faded away.

“I’ll be back Stiles... Enjoy your peace and life, Stiles Stillinksi. But in the end, you’ll give me what I want. I know it  One way or another, my dear boy, _ **you will give me what I want**_ ,” he laughed, as the last of his body and cloak blew away in a heap of dust.

Shaking, Stiles fell to his knees. He could still see Ethan laying unconscious halfway across the void. Whatever Amos had done to the poor guy, Stiles couldn’t feel his presence whatsoever.  Like he didn't even have a soul anymore.

Not that he particularly cared at that moment.

Growling, Stiles stood up. “OKAY EVERYONE THAT ISN’T ME. THE ONLY THING I WANT IN MY BRAIN RIGHT NOW IS ME. EVERYONE ELSE, GET THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW AND DON’T EVER COME BACK!” he screamed. His voice echoed everywhere, giving him an odd feeling of authority.

Like a mirage wavering, Ethan vanished from the recesses of Stiles’ mind.

Satisfied, Stiles turned to face the door before him. It opened more and more, until the doors had vanished completely, leaving on the frame behind and a bright light for which Stiles to step through.

 _“Come on now... Everyone’s waiting. It’ll all be okay now,”_ a voice echoed through the door. The same voice that had spoken to him earlier. A kind, motherly voice.

Stiles smiled, shoving his hands in his pocket.

“Nothing’s going to be normal after this, is it?” Stiles asked the thin air around him.

The door stood quietly, glowing all the same light.

“You know... When I was little... After mom died... All I ever wanted was a little kid was to be taken away on a big adventure. Away from Dad, away from the loneliness, and... Maybe finding some friends. You know.. Like in the comic books, or video games.  Hell..  I wanted to be the knight in Final Fantasy,” Stiles whispered.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles shut his eyes. “Of course I’d fucking wish for crazy shit like this and actually get it...” he grumbled, as he stepped through the door, and felt his everything waver.


	9. Chapter 9

When Stiles woke up from Psycho Amos dream, he figured THAT was the start of his part of the story where everything wrapped up in a nice neat bow.  

He and Derek could date like normal boys, and no more fucked up dreams that ended up with Jackson in his ass.  He figured that Peter would know exactly who Amos was, there’d be some crazy-ass hunt with the million or so Hales they seemed to know, and that’d be that. He and Melissa would have amazing ice-cream bonding time, and laugh over Amos’ stupid corpse.  That Stiles would live happily ever after with his pack, and he could start his life as a werewolf all over again.

Never had there been a more itemized list of WRONG in his life before.

There would be no smooches from Derek after he woke up.  He’d been able to explain to everyone what he’d seen and heard about Amos and Ethan, the latter who had been thrown out of his body during his showdown and immediately chained up and taken to a hospital based on his injuries.

Once Peter had been satisfied with Stiles’ story, there was only frantic breaking of speeding laws to get to the hospital, where Stiles was not allowed to leave until every imaginable test was run.  Both magical AND medical.  Nobody but pack and doctors were allowed to see Stiles until Derek was satisfied that his mate was 100% back to normal and healthy.

Sitting in the hospital bed, Stiles huffed as he adjusted himself for the thirtieth time to get a better reading angle.  Hospital gowns were pains in the ass, and considering the INVASIVE and ANNOYING tests the doctors and witch doctors ran, he couldn’t even wear pajamas.  All natural for the world to see his pale ass, with only that thin layer of gown covering him up..

He glared up as the door to his private room swung open, and a very nicely dressed Peter Hale entered.

To whom Stiles threw a pillow at.

Peter pouted at the “warm” reaction.

“ASSHOLE, I KNOW THIS IS ALL YOUR DOING.  ALL THESE GODDAMN DOCTORS AND MAGES ARE YOUR DOING, MR. CONNECTIONS!  OUT!  MORE PEOPLE HAVE SEEN MY NAKED BODY IN THE LAST WEEK THAN IN THE LAST 18 YEARS COMBINED!” Stiles raged, reaching for a potted plant.

Peter immediately held up a bag of food from Arby’s, as well as doing the same mess of an eyebrow waggle like Derek did.

Stiles could smell it.  He was less than subtle as he raised his nose and sniffed out the food.  A reuben with curly fries and a cherry turnover.  Mountain Dew.  And…  

Extra fries.

“Oh fuck you!  I’m mad at you, you’re not allowed to bribe me with food and win my heart!” Stiles pouted, putting down the potted plant and folding his arms.

“I take it I’m spared from your foliage-based fury?” Peter asked.

Sighing painfully, Stiles threw his head back against the bed.  “Yes.  Fine.  Bring me food.  All they let me have is week old pudding,” he grumbled.

Peter chuckled, moving towards stiles and handing over “the goods”, while also plopping down on the chair that pretty much all of the pack had slept on at one point or another.  Stiles NEVER had a night alone while in the hospital.  “Your test results have all come back negative.  No brain damage, no lingering spells or Sigma signals in your body.  All of the doctors are pretty much of one mind that you’re possession-free and that there shouldn’t be any long term damage or side effects,” Peter said, watching in awe as Stiles stuffed over half of his rueben inside of his cheeks, not completely unlike a squirrel.

“FJAEOTHADFJ-” Stiles said, in a sad attempt of trying to say “fantastic” with his face stuffed.

Peter shook his head.  “As for Amos?  Still nothing but dead ends.  Though in the last week, the were council’s historians have confirmed your account of Fenrir.  Old diaries of our first council spoke of Fenrir and the separation of powers into the 26 classes.  There also speaks of fusionary spells capable of merging multiple wolves together that HAS worked before.   We’re all in agreement that this “Amos” must be stopped at all costs.  Any man that would use a slavery mark?  They should NOT be permitted to hold that level of power…” he answered.

Stiles swallowed what he’d been chewing, putting down the rest of his food.

“I should have gotten more out of him.  He was so fucking “talky”.  Probably could have tricked him into giving me more,” he said angrily.

Peter sighed.  “Given that he had Alpha eyes, he knew exactly what kind of information he was giving you.  I doubt, no matter how brilliantly you tried, that you’d be able to get much of anything.  He was toying with you Stiles,” he explained, patting Stiles’ hand.  “Forget him for now.  Adam and Hunter should be here in the coming month, along with Cora.  Some of the best and brightest Hales are here to protect your pack,” he said warmly.  Though as he said it, something ticked in his forehead.  “Oh yes…  We have some business to discuss.  It’s about that Ethan fellow,” he said quietly.

Stiles turned to Peter sharply.  “He’s awake?!  I thought he’d been unconscious since I threw him out of my body that night?!” he asked loudly.

“He was…  Until just last night,” Peter answered, adjusting his collar awkwardly.  “Though…  I think he would have been happier asleep, to be honest,” he whispered coldly.

“Why’s that?” Stiles asked, feeling his hunger waver slightly.

Sighing, Peter shook his head. “Whatever memories of his childhood and life before becoming a slave?  Gone.  It’s like those days just never happened.  Not to mention that the years he served as a slave have been blanked as well.  Ethan woke up last night a blank slate  All he knows is that his name is Ethan, whatever academic knowledge and skills he learned growing up, and that he’s a Sigma werewolf.  Everything else is just…  Gone.  No idea about Amos, and he has no idea why he’s in a hospital and chained to a bed with two armed were guards,” he explained.

Stiles bit his bottom lip.  “Sure he’s not…  Lying?” he asked.

Peter hook his head firmly.  “No, he’s not lying.  I interviewed him personally, and everything he said was the truth.  Though I had doctors examine him just as carefully as they did you.  He’s healthy now, with no mark, and no side effects except for the amnesia.  Which makes…  This next question fairly painful,” he said, sighing painfully.  

Stiles went back to his meal, unraveling his turnover and gobbling most of it.  

Clearing his throat, Peter looked straight into Stiles’ eyes.  “Ethan, slave or not, broke several Council laws.  He attacked you and threatened your pack.  Our laws state that you have the right to find justice, should you desire it,” he explained.

Stiles raised an eyebrow.  “So like…  Throw him in jail?” he asked.

“No.  It is within your right to have him executed,” Peter answered bluntly.  

Crumbs fell out of Stiles’ mouth as he stopped chewing.  “What?!” he spat, blowing chunks in Peter’s face.

Peter wiped the spit and chunks out of his face.  “He tried to kill you and dismantle your pack.  If it your right to have him executed, the only way werewolves CAN be killed humanely without their healing torturing them.  We’d behead him.  That is your option, Stiles.  You were the one wronged, so you will be the one to decide,” he answered.

Stiles threw his hands out immediately.  “WHAT?!  No no no no no!  No murder!  No killing!  The guy didn’t know what he was doing, right?  So…  Yeah, NO.  Don’t kill the guy,” he replied immediately.

Peter shook his head.  “I should warn you…  Because he’s in such a state, and because he’s in your territory when he was found…  If you leave him alive, he’ll become Derek’s burdon and a part of your pack.  Nobody would blame you if-”

“It’s FINE Peter,” Stiles announced.  “I was going to ask if he could stay with us anyway.  I feel bad for the guy,” he explained.

It was Peter’s turn to look in awe.  

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Stiles started attacking his fries again, taking a large gulp of his drink before answering.

“Well…  I mean, think about it!  That could have been me!  What would I want if I was all alone in the world and had no memory of where I’d come from!” he shouted.  

Peter allowed an ever so small grin curve at his lips.

“I’d want someone there for me, someone to help bring me back home to you guys!  Trust me, I know what it’s like to be alone in the world, and it sucks,” he grimaced,  shaking at some dark memory.  “I mean..  It’s not like he’ll be there FOREVER, I can put up with shadow murder McGee for a few months.  We’ll help Ethan find his pack, and he can live happily ever after!  Besides, maybe one day his memories will return!  He’d be a great weapon against Amos!” Stile asserted.

Huffing, Peter let his grin fade.  “I swear to God, you’re just like Clara.  When we were kids, a Doberman bit her and then proceeded to destroy her favorite blouse.  She wouldn’t let me kill him, and actually forced me to take the dog to the vet because I’d broken its foot to get him off her.  Stupid thing had nail in its foot.  We ended up keeping “Fang” for 20 years until he passed on.  I miss that mutt,” he sighed.

Stiles smirked.  Peter always seemed to just GLOW when he talked about Clara or his kids.

“Peter…  You really should get back home.  You’re a father!” Stiles shouted angrily.

Sighing, Peter shook his head.  “Stiles, I’ve already been back home for a few days.  I kissed my newborn pups, spent very lovely nights with my wife, and setup Skype to speak with her nightly.  Until this Amos fellow is dealt with, I’m not leaving my new Alpha nephew to fend for himself.  Nor am I about to let Clara out here with my pups, she’s safer in the Hale Compound.  Michael can take care of her for now, I trust him to raise his brothers and sisters right,” he answered.

Digging into his curly fries, Stiles smashed half a dozen in his mouth.  “Michael’s your…  Middle son, right?  How old is he?” he asked.

Proudly, Peter dug into his pocket, retrieving his leather wallet.  He dug into it, pulling out a wallet sized photo.  It was the photo of Michael, who looked remarkably like a fair-haired Derek.  Really, the Hale face HAD to be a dominant allele, otherwise it was too freaky.

“He’s 15, and the only Alpha I’ve raised.  He’s getting trained by my brother Kyle to take over a pack in the future like Derek has, which is why he doesn’t get to travel with me like the rest of my children.  I don’t play favorites with my children, but Michael’s the most focused and most reliable.  Ever since he was a child, he’s always thought about the pac, and ways of helping the Hale family.  I’m unbearably proud of him, but never tell him I said that.  I fear he’ll have a fat head,” he chuckled playfully.

Stiles grinned, tapping on the photo.  “You are one of those dads aren’t you?   You’ve got a picture of ALL your kids and bore everyone at parties by boasting about your kids,” he said playfully.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “I’ve never bored anyone with my children.  They’re just not enthralled enough at their perfection,” he replied, in a faux-offended scoff.

 

+

 

Stiles, just like Peter had said, was released from the hospital with glowing reports the very next day.  

He’d missed almost an entire month of school because of Peter and Derek's concern and “psychological recovery”.  The Principal had no issue ignoring the medically excused absences, on the promise he had perfect attendance once he came back.  Academically though, he only stayed on track for graduation after Peter…  

Well, Stiles chose not to think what Peter said to Mr. Harris to allow him to make up all his lost Chemistry homework and tests, but he was about 90% sure it involved missing limbs or  making creepy secrets public.

So really, while the hospital had been a jarring experience, and while Amos not being caught was seriously worrying him, everything was relatively back to normal, like he'd wanted since the beginning of the whole ordeal.

Well, most things anyway.

Derek became his boyfriend (as if that wasn't fucking obvious.  The first day back from the hospital,Derek hugged him and didn't let him go for the rest of the night), and they had regular date nights like a couple should have.  Half naked snuggles in their underwear, however, was as far as they went on the intimate route.  There was still a solid taboo on sex as far as Stiles was concerned.  Not just because of the whole dopplebanger shit, but also because he still wasn't 100% comfortable in his Delta body.  Having male and female parts was still something he was trying to work out in his brain.  It wasn’t an adjustment to be taken lightly.

At least his social life outside of Derek was normal and stress-free.  He ate lunch with Danny and Lydia, had homework, and vegged out with them on Saturdays in the mall.  They didn't bother asking about his trip to the hospital, instead using Isaac's love of brownies against him and getting the full story anyway.  The amount of embarrassment and badassery seemed to net in his friends' eyes.

In secret, Stiles applied to a few colleges.  He knew Derek would pay wherever he wanted to go, but he feared that his less than fabulous grades (fucking werewolf adventures screwed up his GPA ages ago) wouldn’t get him anywhere.  No need in being too dissapointed.

Even his body was getting back to what it once had been.  With all of his Delta hormones finally set in, he could finally start earning his body back.  The changes were all temporary parts of the bitten wolf shift, and even his dick could be regulated with hormone therapy.  And it WOULD.  Peter was already getting a doctor to work on that matter.

He thought everything was back to normal.

Though a few things did change about “normal”.  Some good, some bad.

The biggest change to normalcy was his packy.  They were more open with Stiles, as if to make up for their failings during the first stages of the dopplebanger incident, as everyone had taken to call it.  

Jackson admitted he did find Stiles attractive, and at one point indented to mate and court him.  At least, until he found someone who was his real mate, but didn’t want to share until they were sure about each other.  (To which Stiles laughed at the "secrecy" he thought they had.)

Scott had no issue saying he never once saw Stiles as anything more than a brother or pack mate.  Though he did appreciate the "mothering" Stiles gave him as the Alpha mate.  With his mother's busy schedule and asshole of a father, it was nice to have that kind of love in his life.

Isaac bawled, living in Stiles' lap through the whole night.  He broke down and told Stiles that he was the best friend and surrogate parent he could have ever asked for.  "You make my life worth living" was all Isaac had to say before Stiles joined in on the tears.  Isaac really was his favorite.

Naturally, Derek confessed his love and intention to court Stiles as his mate.  That he was the pack's rock and made everything fall into place.  After Stiles confessed his own love, the night came to an end in a huge puppy pile, nobody leaving the living room couch, and everyone touching Stiles.

Unfortunately, for all the good changes and ending to all of the misunderstandings, there was the one "drawback".

Derek's order that everyone give Stiles a night off from denmothering on Fridays, so he could be with Lydia, Isaac, and Danny on movie night.  Stiles didn’t do any chores on weekends, PERIOD.  

A mistake of epic proportions, as it turned out.

Well, mostly.

Isaac was competent enough when his turn on Fridays came around.  He never really cooked much besides oven ready frozen pizzas, but at least he cleaned up.

Jackson tried to be extravagant, usually over seasoning dinner and making the werewolves vomit.  He never did anything to the dishes but throw them in the sink to stink up the whole kitchen, and would often stamp out angrily when anyone threw up his meal..

Peter, a denmother himself,  was the only one Stiles would trust to care for the pack on long absences. His kitchen was always put back in place, as if nobody had been there.

Derek ordered take out.  Stiles secretly loved him most for being smart enough not to make a mess.

Then...

Then there was Scott.

In the early hours of Saturday morning, about three weeks from high school Graduation, Stiles could smell the McCall Meltdown.

To the untrained, eye, nothing was “wrong”.  The kitchen surfaces smelled like cleaning product, and pretty much everything was put up in place.  

Spaghetti and meatballs hadn't been all that bad, according to Jackson's text message the night before.  Not great, but definitely edible.

He should had KNOWN that was a bad sign.

Though as Sties got a “clean” pot for morning tea he inspected it only to find it smelled of 5 pounds of Dawn cleaning product.  When he put water in it, bubbles spilled out of it en masse.  

"Please tell me he didn't..." Stiles whispered, as he grabbed another tea pot.

Again, soap bubbles galore.

Ten minutes later, Stiles found that pretty much every single plate, dish, and glass had this same problem.  

Stiles sighed, quietly throwing everything they owned into a sink of hot water, and prepping the dishwasher.

At least he WOULD have, if the dishwasher wasn't already full with the pots and pans of last night’s dinner.  They had done no scrubbing whatsoever, meaning that the “Clean” dishes in the dishwasher were still caked on with pasta sauce from the night before.

Stiles slapped himself in the face out of horror, to which Jackson chuckled as he walked inside the kitchen.  

“Who did the dishes while I was gone?  Actually, don’t even bother.  It was Scott wasn’t it?” Stiles asked angrily.

Snickering, Jackson nodded.  “He was so…  Adamant about keeping things nice  for you.  Screamed at us “were-pigs” anytime we did anything in the kitchen on HIS turn.  I…  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that only a small amount of Dawn was necessary to clean things.  Or that he didn't have to clean the already clean dishes.  Because, you know, there's no stopping Scott when he's got a bad idea,” he laughed quietly.

“How much did he use?” Stiles whined, rubbing his forehead in anticipation.

Jackson snorted.  “He went to Family Dollar to buy about six bottles of Dawn Soap,” he answered.

“OH FOR FUCKS SAKE,” Stiles said, slamming his head repeatedly against the counter.  “New rule.  Only denmothers and the Alpha are allowed to touch the kitchen or its dishes, got it?  Derek's rule can go fuck itself.   You, Scott and any of Derek’s relatives?  NO TOUCHY TOUCHY!” he demanded, waving his hands over the Domain of Stiles..

“DenmotherS?  Like with an S?” Jackson asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Sighing, Stiles nodded.  “Peter, Isaac and…  A friend is going to be helping me out around here.  Taking turns and whatnot.  When Derek’s brothers and sisters get here, there’s no way I can do cooking, cleaning, and laundry all on my own,” he explained.

Jackson groaned, rubbing his forehead.  “Remind me again why they’re coming here?  From what Derek says, one of them has the personality of a 2 year old, and the other one’s got the social skills of a brick wall.  Then there’s his little sister Cora, who WORKS FOR THE GODDAMN FBI.  How am I going to torrent my porn now?” he whined.

“Not my problem!  Go take your sexual frustration out on Scott, and maybe take him on a date you asshole.  Quit being fuck buddies, and man up to be boyfriends already.  He's the guy that you liked over me, right?,” Stiles said, pushing Jackson out of the kitchen.

“How the fuck did you know about that?!” Jackson blushed.

“Moron, I do your laundry, I smell what you two do.  Which, by the way, go be useful and get everyone’s laundry for me!  Hunter, Adam and Cora will be here tonight, and I expect them to be the same level of Werepigs in appetite.  I have too much shit to do and not enough time to do it!"  Stiles shouted, shoving Jackson out of the kitchen and huffing loudly.  “I’M MAKING DINNER.  KEEP EVERYONE OUT OF THE GODDAMN KITCHEN, OR I WILL MURDER YOU VIOLENTLY!” Stiles growled, echoing through the house.

Derek, who had been sipping coffee on the couch, even flinched in fear.

Sighing, Stiles shook his head.  He grabbed the cooking pots and pans he would need, throwing them in the sink and running hot water.

“Scott, you’re such a fucking moron.  When you get home from lacrosse, we are having housekeeping 101.  This shit will NOT fly," growling as he attacked the pans.

While he complained and raged, he was secretly thrilled.  His pack cared, and really did appreciate all he did.

That whole afternoon had been proof enough of tht.    

By the time Stiles had enough pots and pans to actually make a dinner big enough for Derek’s family arrivals, it was already noon, and he could already hear the front door slamming back and forth.  

Isaac came through from his night at Lydia's and offered to do laundry for Stiles and clean up the entryway for the guests.  He even brought Stiles some Starbucks and take-out burgers.

Jackson made himself useful, shopping for the drinks and side dishes they could just bake or microwave instantly.  There was no way Stiles could make all the entrees AND sides at that point.

Thankfully, Derek had already grabbed all the meat out of the freezer the day before, and brought the defrosted meat into the kitchen, where he did most of the mild prepping with the few seasonings that their family did enjoy tasting.

When all of the prep was done, Stiles shooed everyone out of the kitchen.  Then, like a maestro approaching the podium, he went arms deep into the 10 burner stove.

Several hours later, Stiles groaned as he looked at the clock.  Peter would be there with the Hales in just a few hours.  He needed help, and Peter was the only one he trusted enough not to ruin dinner.

“God, send me Wolfgang Puck.  Pretty please?” Stiles asked.

“Excuse me?” a quiet voice asked.

Stiles spun around, met eye to eye with Ethan.  He looked a hell of a lot different than he’d been in his mind.  Instead of the leather slave garb, he actually looked pretty nice in a violet muscle shirt and jeans.  

Behind him, Stiles could see a sullen Derek hefting several bags up the staircase.  He must have finally gotten cleared by the were council's medical examiners to move into the Hale home.  Derek had been VERY reluctant in Stiles’ request to bring Ethan home with them.  He’d only given in after a mild amount of flirting and begging.

“That’s not Wolfgang Puck,” Stiles thought to himself.

“Umm…  You’re Stiles, right?  Alpha Derek’s mate?  The denmother?” Ethan asked.

Stiles nodded.  “Yeah, that’s me,” he replied dully.  He turned around, going back to seasoning the raw chicken that was boiling for the salad.

Hearing Ethan’s normal voice was…  Odd.  He didn’t expect to not be scared by the guy.  He figured that he’d go into a PTSD fueled nightmare when Ethan actually moved in with the pack, and just being around him, around SWILES, was going to be hard..  

He didn’t have to worry about that now.  Ethan didn’t have that scary or creepy aura about him.  He was just like anyone else in the pack, with a warm voice that was HUMAN.

Ethan was Ethan.  Ethan wasn’t Sigma Zero Five anymore.  He wasn’t Amos’ puppet.  He wasn’t Swiles.  

Ethan and Swiles were two completely different people, that was for sure.

Ethan moved inside the kitchen, eyeing the ingredients lined out.

“Hi.  I’m Ethan, Ethan Hale for now until we find out who my pack is.  For the time being, I guess I’m the new Sigma for your pack.  I also got assigned to help you with denmother responsibilities.  What can I do to help?” he asked eagerly.

Stiles nodded to the side.  “Can you peel potatoes?  Leave a little skin if you can.  Derek and Scott like it that way,” he explained.

“Got it!” Ethan said, moving to Stiles’ left side, grabbing the washed potatoes and a peeler.  He went to it, as Stiles watched him skillfully flip through the potatoes in a flash.  Like it was second nature.

“So…  No memories, huh?” Stiles asked, in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

Ethan shook his head.  “No.  I just woke up in the hospital and had your pack watching my room.  They said I’d broken some laws, but…  That it wasn’t my fault?  Didn’t make any sense, but they won’t tell me anything,” he grumbled, turning to Stiles.  “Do you know what I did?” he asked.

Slowly, Stiles nodded.  Within a few minutes, Stiles sighed.  “I do.  It wasn’t that big of a deal.  I wouldn’t worry about it.  You sort of just lost your head and wasn’t yourself.  The council cleared you, right?” he asked.

“Barely,” Ethan groaned.  He moved on to the next bucket of potatoes.  “I also get that your pack…  Doesn’t like me very much,” he said quietly.

Stiles twitched.  “What makes you think that?” he asked.

Ethan snorted.  “Derek told me, and I quote, “I don’t like you”,” he explained.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles grabbed for another bottle of spices.  “Yeah, well, Derek’s my boyfriend.  Trust me when I say he’s more bark than bite.  Actually, he’s not, but when I’m involved he is,” he explained.

“Comforting,” Ethan replied, with a plated smirk.  

Stiles sighed.  “Listen, you’re new and you’re an outsider.  Give it time.  You’ll win them over.  When Jackson, he’s a Beta in our pack, joined?  Scott and Derek wanted to murder him on a daily basis.  He was also a bully that made my life miserable in elementary and middle school.  Now look at me!  I’m making him dinner!  I do his laundry!  I WANT to take care of him and make sure his skinny ass gets a little meat on hi bones” he exclaimed.  He patted Ethan on the shoulder, making sure to slap where he knew the mark had been.  Ethan needed some warmth on that spot.  “You’ll be fine.  Trust me.,” he offered.

Those words seemed to calm Ethan down.  He went back to his potatoes, and the two finished all the chopping and mashing prep work for a dozen or more hungry wolves  in the better part of fifteen minutes.  Two was definitely better than one.

“Awesome!” Stiles said, high fiving with Ethan.

Ethan smiled.  “This is weird to say, but…  This feels… Familiar,” he offered, standing back as Stiles started gathering the materials for the next part of the meal.

Stiles turned to the Sigma.  “Maybe you were a denmother for your last pack?” he asked.

Ethan shook his head immediately.  “No…  No, it’s not that.  Not the cooking, I’m talking about…  You,” he answered.

“Eh?” Stiles asked, glancing at Ethan carefully.

“I feel like I’ve met someone like you before.  But…  Closer.  Like maybe a brother?  Did I have a brother?  A brother who…  Who was like you.  Always supporting me, maybe…  I don’t know,” Ethan said, rubbing his forehead.  “This is giving me a headache,” he groaned.

Stiles grabbed several packages of hamburger meat, throwing them inside a massive serving bowl.  “We’ll find ‘em.  Your old pack that is..  Maybe not today or tomorrow, but we’re gonna find them.  I promise you that,” he said supportively.  

“I hope…  Maybe then they could tell me who I am…” Ethan paused.

Their sappy support system was broken up as the front door slammed shut.

“STILES.  THAT ASSHOLE ETHAN IS COMING HERE TODAY.  SAY THE WORD AND I’LL-” Scott shouted, stopping as he reached the kitchen’s entrance.

He saw Ethan inches away from Stiles, and Scott growled, revealing a flash of white teeth.  The pack mate was at Stiles’ side in seconds.  

To which Stiles immediately stuffed his mouth with an unpeeled carrot into Scott’s open mouth, shutting him up instantly.  “Bad Scott!  VERY BAD.  Ethan is our FRIEND.  A friend who DOESN’T make me spend hours getting soap out of my dishes!” he exclaimed.

Scott blinked a few times, clearly confused.

“Uh…  Hi?” Ethan said, waving sheepishly in Scott’s direction.

Biting down on the carrot and chewing it, Scott glared at Ethan.  “Stiles, he-”

Stiles grabbed Scott by the collar and pushed him out of the kitchen.  “Be nice to him Scott, he’s gone through the same shit I went through, except he lost and I won.  I stood by you when you went wolf, you stand by me now as I deal with this and don’t be an asshole.  Got it?” he demanded in a soft whisper.

Groaning, Scott nodded.  “FINE,” he said, getting kicked in the butt as Stiles finished pushing him out.

Stiles ran back to his station, sighing.

“What’s his problem?” Ethan asked, nodding in Scott’s direction.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Long story.  I wouldn’t worry about it right now.  Right now, we just REALLY need to focus.  Goddamnit, I could really use some extra hands….” he moaned.

"Oh, well...  I can help with that too," Ethan said politely.  

“How?” Stiles asked.

He was pretty quickly answered as Ethan took a deep breath and snapped his fingers in a loud clacking unison.  

“Okay…  Interesting…  Not sure how that will help, but-” Stiles said, interrupted as Ethan pointed behind them.

Stiles spun around, following Ethan’s fingertip.  He was met with three copies of Ethan, all smiling and holding various kitchen tools.

“I think I’ve seen this porno before,” Stiles said, blinking wildly.

Ethan snorted.  "Meet my real illusions!  They can do whatever you guys need them to do!  Think of them as your personal slaves!” he said, laughing ignorantly of the circumstances that actually befell him.

Stiles chuckled, patting Ethan on the shoulder again.  “How about you tell them what to do?  I’m not your boss, we’re pack mates.  But if you’re asking what you can do to help?  I’m needing the mashed potatoes cooked with MASSIVE butter and milk, and the meatloaf started while I barbecue the chicken and steaks.  I’ll get Isaac in here to zap the veggies and sides,” he said.

“Got it!” Ethan replied, turning to his shadows and issuing dozens of quick commands.  Soon, four Ethans were dancing around the kitchen as remarkable sous chefs, kicking productivity’s ass while Stiles slowly made the perfectly cooked meats.

 

+

 

The cooking ended in perfect timing, leaving everyone enough time to get showered and dressed in semi-formal attire.

Stiles, Ethan, and Scott set the dining room table with the good Hale China, and the nice silver.  Thankfully, Scott hadn’t touched them in his cleaning spree, so Stiles didn’t even have to wash them off.  

Derek and Jackson brought the food out, and Stiles had to keep smacking their hands away from the barbeque ribs.  

With near perfect timing, Stiles had just brought out the pitchers of sweet tea when the doorbell rang loudly.

Derek groaned, slamming his head on Stiles’ shoulder.  “Stiles…  I need your strength.  I haven’t lived with my brothers in nearly 10 years when they moved out.  Please promise me that no matter what horrible terrible stories they tell of me, that you won’t leave me?” he begged.

“Depends on the stories,” Stiles replied playfully, pressing a kiss on Derek’s cheek.  “Come on, let’s get it over with,” he said, patting Derek on the shoulder.

With a newfound courage, Derek took Stiles in hand, and moved out of their formal dining room and towards the front door.  

Stiles could see the spiky red hair through the topmost glass window.  

Derek took a deep breath, and pulled open the front door.

“DERRY!” a towering man, taller even than Derek himself, rammed through the door and threw his massive guns around Derek’s head, nearly cutting off the circulation.  His spiky short neon red hair was something straight out of an anime, with black roots creating a very vampire-esque feel about him.  Three massive looped earrings were sticking out of his right eyebrow, accentuated with an ear gauge and a bull ring in his nose.  Completely breaking the mold of his crazy bright punk head, the man was wearing a full suit and tie.

“Adam, don’t break Derry, we just got here,” a dull voice echoed.

Turning back to the door, a very bored-looking bean-pole of a man stepped through and moved past both Derek and his brother.  Unlike his very hyper brother Adam, this second Hale didn’t have a single hair out of place.  Though Stiles was amazed to see someone so young with grey hair sticking out of his bangs and forming at the tips of his crown.  He too was in a well-tailored suit.  

“I MISSED MY DERRY.  LEAVE ME ALONE HUNTER, I JUST WANNA HUG HIM TILL HE’S DEAD!” Adam shrieked, like an infant child.

Stiles backed away, leaving Derek to fend for himself.  Potentially a bad idea as a hand slapped him on the back.

“You must be Stiles.  Derek’s told us so much about you!” a woman proclaimed.

Right next to Peter, a teenage female cloned version of Derek was putting her arms around Stiles.  Based on the FBI badge Stiles could see on her belt, this had to be Cora Hale.  

Stiles tried to hug back as best he could.  “Nice to meet you Cora.  Welcome to our-”

“STILSEY BABY!” Adam shrieked, pulling Stiles out of Cora’s hug and squeezing him in the world’s most violent bear hug known to man.  From over Adam’s shoulder, Stiles could see the dazed expression in Derek’s face, still woozy from lack of oxygen.

“Hi Adam..  So nice to meet you,” Stiles struggled to say.  

“DERRY GOT A MATE!  AHH!  YOU’RE PERFECT FOR DERRY.  HE ACTUALLY SMILES AGAIN!  STILSEY, YOU ARE MY NEW FAVORITE PERSON EVER!,” Adam said, plopping Stiles back on the ground.  He investigated Stiles carefully, and quickly spun over to Derek.  “You are a fucking cradle robbing piece of shit, you know that?” he spat angrily.

Derek rolled his eyes.  “Too many Hales in one place.  I’m having Christmas flashbacks from 98,” he said, rubbing his forehead painfully.

Cora giggled, throwing her arms around Derek’s neck and kissing him on the cheek.  “Missed you Derry…  So glad to be part of your pack again!  You were ALWAYS my favorite,” she said playfully.

“HEY!” Adam and Hunter said simultaneously.

Peter came in, schlepping the many luggage bags and throwing them off in a corner.  He then joined Stiles’ side, pulling him into a half hug.  “Introductions are in order, I suppose,” he said, immediately signaling towards Adam.  “Adam Hale, pack Epsilon.  He’s a freelance video game designer, self-taught software engineer, and professional DJ.  Though he has a Masters in Business that he refuses to use like a normal person,” he explained.

Adam waved, laughing enough to reveal a rather large ball tongue ring.  “Mom MADE me get a “practical” degree.  She didn’t think I’d make it s a DJ.  Fucking showed her, didn’t I?  I bring home 5 Grand a NIGHT when I spin,” he said, making obscene moves and gestures.

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Yes, and I’m sure you’re accounting for your drinking obsession?” he asked.

Adam stuck his tongue out at Peter, while Peter then turned to Hunter.  “Hunter Hale, pack Epsilon.  Hunter is an author that’s had three bestsellers, and has a Doctorate in English,” Peter explained, while Hunter nodded his head.  

“I hate people.  Don’t talk to me,” Hunter said immediately.

“Noted,” Stiles said, trying not to be offended as Hunter brushed past him and made his way into the living room, already face-deep in a Kindle.  

Peter groaned, as Cora took the opposite side of Stiles and put her arm around him.  “Cora Hale!  I’m 17, but I graduated High School and college early so I could join the FBI.  I’m technically just a field agent, but my knowledge of the supernatural sort of makes me more like a consultant to the old farts in the higher ranks,” she explained.

“That is so cool,” Stiles said, letting go of Peter and immediately starting at her badge.  “I’ve always wanted to be a cop!  Or any kind of LEO, really,” he said.

Cora smirked, walking away hand-in-hand with Stiles.  

Adam chuckled, grabbing Derek by the neck.  “Come on Derry, I GOTTA meet your pack!  All gay guys? Really?  Well not anymore since Hunter, Cora and I re here, but dude were you seriously just banking on Stiles getting your pack kids?  Cuz, you do know that dick plus ass does not equal baby, right?  Well except for Stiles, but that’s a different story,” he asked inappropriately, pulling his Alpha into the dining room, where a roar of conversation and talk echoed loudly.

Still in the entryway, Peter chuckled, reaching into his pockets and pulling out cell phone.  He typed out  single line message before walking to join the rest of the family.

 

_To:  Alpha Talia Hale_

_We’re here.  I’ll send video.  I think Derek may actually murder Adam this time.  I may or may not assist._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if it wasn't obvious, this is only the START of this fic's series. I'm already outlining part II, and plan for a Part III as well. Might add or subtract, based on feedback and responses. 
> 
> Chapter 10 is going to be the big "Stiles and Derek talk about the future and relationship shit" chapter.   
> Chapter 11 is going to be the last chapter that sets up the events that lead to the four year time skip in Part II.


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles was about 200% convinced that Derek was not related to his brothers and sister.  

Adam was a ball of ceaseless energy, up at the crack of dawn, and not falling asleep until after 3 in the morning the next day.  The Jungle was apparently head over heels for DJ A-Hale, and gave him a job almost immediately.  Not a long term contract, but Stiles had been significantly impressed and gone to three of his shows in the month leading up to their graduation.  The club had been insane those nights, and even Isaac had come along for the first REAL partying since joining the pack.  Adam was FUN.  He made life a party, both in his work and in his personal life, throwing caution to the wind.  Derek and Adam were night and day different.

Hunter was..  Well, Stiles had no idea what Hunter was like.  He came down for breakfast, went back upstairs to his room, came down for lunch, and then back upstairs to his room.  Hunter ate dinner after everyone went to bed.  He did his own laundry and locked his door.  There was no talking and no bonding.  Hunter was even more quiet and sullen than Derek was.  Isaac was quick to nickname Hunter their little “sourwolf”.  

Then there was Cora.  Stiles liked Cora the best.  She was down to earth, serious, and yet managed a mild sense of humor.  She’d been a great source of information on what he needed to know about making it into the-

“Stiles?  What on earth are you doing up at this hour?” Isaac asked.

Coming out of his head, Stiles glanced up from the kitchen table, which was covered in papers, and illuminated by the glow of his laptop, a graduation present from Derek.  It was about 3 in the morning, and he still had his button up shirt and dress pants on.  They’d graduated earlier that day, and had a great dinner at Reni’s, the best French place in town.  While the others had gone out to party, celebrate, or otherwise gone straight to bed in the case of Jackson and Scott.  Naturally, Stiles opted to study on his first night of freedom from high school.

Stiles sighed, reaching for his cup of lukewarm tea.  “You know…  I haven’t done this in years.  Feels good pulling an all nighter  Last time I had to do this, the Kamina was involved,” he said playfully.

Isaac took a seat across from Stiles, rummaging through the papers.

“You realize we just finished school, right?  Now’s the time to NOT study,” he retorted, snagging an empty cup from the tea tray and filling himself up a cup himself.

“No, now is the time to study even harder than before,” Stiles answered, clacking away on his keyboard.

Isaac piqued an eye.  “What are you studying?” he asked.

“I’m cataloging the Hale Bestiary into an online database.  We’ll be able to cross reference based on criteria, offensive maneuvers, spell type, creature type, and just about anything imaginable. Books are too damned inconvenient and too timely to use.  The Hale Bestiary alone, while nice and musty in a tome, is a fucking mess of unorganized paperwork.  So I’m bringing the Hale family into the twenty-first century.  Then I’m also trying to fit everything into my brain and learn about all the most common supernatural creatures and their weaknesses.  Did you know that there’s a Divine Beast known as a Leviathan?  Like, a legit snake in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle?” Stiles said, sipping another long drag of tea.

“Does Peter know you have his family’s bestiary?  Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him talking to that thing like it was his child,” Isaac asked.

“No.  He’s on a flight back home to be with Clara and his pups for the week.  I’ll let him kill me later.  But he won't cuz I'm his FAVORITE,” Stiles mumbled, with a gleeful grin at the end.

Isaac rolled his eyes.  “So what’s with the 3 AM computing and cataloging?  Great idea, don't get me wrong, but couldn’t this have…  Waited?” he asked.

Stiles shook his head.  “No, now’s the only time I CAN do this.  If I’m going to get a Hunter’s permit, I’ve got about 4 years of studying to do in the next couple of weeks,” he answered.

Spitting out his tea, Isaac coughed out a mild laugh.  “Hunter’s Permit?  Like Supernatural Hunting Permit?!  SUPERNATURAL RAWR I'M A GODDAMN HUNTER LIKE THE ZAURS HUNTING PERMIT?” he screeched.

“Yep.  Took the practice test and made a 65 without studying.  I’m aiming for an 80 or higher.  That’s what Berkley wants for their SCJ entrance requirements,” Stiles said.

Isaac shook his head, his face clearly flabbergasted.  “Supernatural Criminal Justice?  Holy fuck, Stiles, that’s for like VETERAN hunters.  Even Cora can’t make that shit yet!” he exploded.

Pushing a brochure in Isaac’s direction, Stiles continued to key away at his database.  “That used to be the case.  Berkley’s the first college in the nation to have a Bachelor’s Program in Supernatural Criminal Justice for young hunters.  The requirements are insane though, to even be considered.  At least a 3.5 GPA, real life physical experience with the supernatural, an amicable skill that a professional hunter will approve or deny, passing a physical course, AND having a Hunter’s Permit,” he answered.

Reading over the brochure, Isaac just shook his head.  “Stiles…  Why on earth would you want to be a Hunter? You’re already a werewolf.  That’s like having a degree in physics and deciding to go back and take college algebra,” he answered.

“Not really,” Stiles pointed out almost immediately.

“You know what I mean!  A werewolf hunter is SERIOUSLY overkill!” Isaac exclaimed.

Stiles, taking a deep breath, shook his head.  “You didn’t…  You didn’t FEEL him Isaac,” he said blankly.

The atmosphere turned tense as Isaac sensed Stiles’ secondhand anxiety.  

“Amos?” Isaac asked quietly.

Stiles nodded.  “Isaac, there’s a man out there with the power to enslave people.  Someone strong enough to fool Peter and the rest of us.  Someone powerful enough to put a fraction of himself INSIDE MY MIND from God knows how far away…  I FELT him Isaac.  I felt what that freak was capable of, and even if we all stood against him together, I know we’d fail.  He’s THAT strong, Isaac.  He can wipe us out,” he explained, curling a fist out of his hand.  “And nobody’s doing a DAMN thing about him,” Stiles spat at the end.

Sighing, Isaac poured himself another cup of tea.  “The Were Council is still worrying about the feral population.  There were three more deaths in the last week, and 9 turnings.  I’m sure the FBI/CIA whatever is on their asses to get it under control.  Or, you know…  They’ll let someone like the Zaur family “take care of it”.  Which means nothing short of a war between the races, because we KNOW the Zaurs are batshit insane,” he answered.

“I KNOW that,” Stiles grumbled, returning to his keyboard and clacking away.  “Which is why I’ve got to get stronger, smarter and more powerful than him.  He’s got a head start on me too  I don’t have time to wait to take a 4 year Hunter’s Permit course, I’ve got to pass it NOW,” he said.  Huffing, he yawned loudly.  “Besides.  Supernatural shit happens everywhere these days for god knows why, and I don’t want to be stuck at home all the time.  Or be the fucking damsel in distress getting saved all the time,” he said exasperatedly.

Isaac smirked.  “So…  You want to get stronger to stop Amos and hunt the spookies in the world?  Why?” he said, with a “I totally see right through you” shit-eating grin.

Stiles looked up from his work.  “I’ve got a family I care about now.  Don’t wanna lose them, and I don’t want to be taken away from them.  Stuff's just now getting good,” he answered with a quiet smile.

“Cool, I’m in,” Isaac said, standing up from the table and grabbing Stiles away from his work.  

“HEY, what are you doing?!  I’m on a hot streak!  I’ve got carpal tunnel, that means I’m doing good!  NOOOO, MY PRECIOUS!” Stiles shouted, being easily overpowered by the Beta and torn away from his laptop and paperwork.   

Isaac rolled his eyes.  “Stiles, go to sleep.  I’ll handle the housework while Peter’s gone.  Ethan will obviously help out, he's adorably in awe of you.  We’ll have take out for the next couple of weeks, but you can spend the day in your room studying.  No more all nighters.  If you want to be good at studying and have a chance, you need to do it RIGHT.  When you’ve got the energy to do it,” he said.

“Really?” Stiles said, like a pouty child.

“Yes, really.  Ethan and I will take care of you and the pack while you get ready.  When’s your test?” Isaac asked.

“July 9th, 10th, and 11th.  It’s the same test all three days, but with different questions.  The Permit Committee will take my highest score, I already asked,” Stiles answered.

“Cool.  Does Derek know?” Isaac inquired.

Stiles shook his head.  “Just you.  Can we not tell the other guys just yet?  I want to make sure and pass before I get too excited about college.  I mean, I’ll probably go for SOMETHING even if I don't get it, but…  I don’t want them knowing if I fail,” he said, yawning quietly.  

“You won’t, you know?” Isaac whispered quietly under his breath as he personally escorted Stiles up to his bedroom..  

+

Stiles had surprised himself.  Over the summer, his and Derek’s half-naked snuggles had evolved into full naked snuggles and actual sexy times.  

No penetration, and most people would be disappointed by that, but in Stiles’ exclamation to Adam’s CONSTANT teasing on Derek’s sexual talents:

“GOD DAMN ADAM, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING. DEREK’S TONGUE SHOULD BE ILLEGAL, I DIDN’T KNOW I HAD PLACES TILL DEREK WORKED ME OVER.  GENE SIMMONS CAN EAT HIS FUCKING HEART OUT, BUT HE CAN'T EVEN DO IT AS GOOD AS DEREK EATS ME OUT!”.

It made for an awkward dinner, Jackson half-vomited, and Peter had such a WEIRD look , but it shut Adam up and made Derek swell up with pride when nobody was looking.

Which is how Stiles found himself in Derek’s bedroom, like most evenings.  

They’d both “finished” a few minutes earlier, and were now grinding and making out with the sheets covering them up.  Stiles still wasn’t fond of his ass, but if Derek kept playing with it like he did?  Stiles was going to come to love it just as much as his mate did, and slowly it wasn't feeling so "weird".

Coming up for air from his “topping” position over Derek, Stiles panted.  “Damn…  That was awesome…  How the hell did you learn how to hit that SPOT?  Your fingers...  Fuck...  I came like in ten seconds,” he chuckled.

Derek smirked.  “I bought a werewolf sex book.  Did you know as a Delta, you’ve got like.. 3 Gspots?  I’ve only found two, but I keep looking for that elusive third one.  We'll certainly have fun looking,” he offered, winking playfully as he nibbled on Stiles' lip.

“OH MY GOD, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FLIRT LIKE THAT,” Stiles exploded, laughing as he thudded his forehead on Derek’s chest.  

Derek ruffled Stiles’ hair, pressing a gentle kiss in his mate’s hair.  “God…  I love you..  Your laugh could cure anything,” he said warmly.

Slowly, Stiles’ face changed.  He melted into Derek’s chest, while his mate turned off the lamp and leaving just the half-moon to illuminate through their window.

Their heartbeats slowed down, as Derek started petting up and down Stiles’ back.  
  
"Derek, can we have one of those long and awkward relationship talks?  I’ve uh…  I’ve got a lot of things I want to talk about,” Stiles asked.

Even in the dark, Stiles could feel Derek’s nod and hum of approval.

Stiles took a deep breath.  "We've been open with everyone, and I think it's time I'm open with myself and what I want.  We all know Jackson wants to go into business and be an entrepreneur, which is why he’s going to the Burkely College of Business.  Scott’s going to be a vet assistant, duh, and that’s pretty much what he’s doing at Burkley’s College of Vetrinary Medicine.  Isaac just wants a job doing something he likes, and Ethan’s the same way.   Adam, Hunter and Cora all have jobs.  Peter’s a member of the Were Council.  You’re an Alpha, so that means you’re pretty much full time werewolf.  So…  That leaves me.  Me, the boring one,” he answered.

“And knowing you…  You’ve got something amazing planned.  Never did figure you’d want to just be our housewife,” Derek said, pulling Stiles closer on the bed, and seeing up for a gentle spooning.  He nuzzled against Stiles’ neck.  “Hit me with it.  Can’t wait to see what my mate has in store…” he said, in a genuine excitement.

Stiles smiled.  Derek really had gotten to know him better since graduation and their endless string of late-night dates and sexy cuddles.  They’d just been pretty good friends when the Dobblebanger Incident started, but at this point they really were mates.  He was pretty sure Derek knew the “real” him better than Scott did at this point.

Werewolf telepathy?  Mate bonding?

Stiles didn't care, but it was AWESOME. 

Derek didn’t treat stiles like the “Delta” that needed protection anymore.  

He’d completed his change, and was on the same level as the rest of them.  Except he had weird immortal healing, so that MIGHT also have something to do with Derek’s de-stressing.    

Stiles shook his head.  "I love this pack Derek.  I love our family.  It's something I've never had before, and that’s why I’m scared out of my goddamn mind,” he mumbled.

“Why?” Derek asked immediately, leaning up in the bed with a crushed expression on his face.

Stiles bit his bottom lip.  “Because I can’t stay here if it means certain…  Things.  With the way I want my future to look?  I’m not sure if it’s going to line up with what you want out of life, and…  I don’t want there to be tension or fighting.  So let’s just get all of this out on the table right now, okay?  Let’s talk like grown ups and…  Figure out what it means for me and you to do the long term thing.  Because I DO.  I want the long term, I want the whole nine yards and a white picketed fence,” he explained quietly.

Instantly, Derek cupped Stiles’ hand and they both set up against the bed’s headboard.  “Absolutely.  What are you worried about me and you not lining up about?” he asked, using his free hand to take Stiles’.  
  
"Like being pregnant," Stiles answered.

“Oh.  That’s what you’re worried about?,” Derek responded, blinking in a surprise.

Stiles nodded.  "I'm not having kids until I'm ready.  That might be in 5 years, or it could be 10 or 15.  I do want kids.  I want them like crazy and have a big-ass family and not be a failure of a father like mine was, but I'm not about to be a teen mom.  I'm not ready mentally, I know for sure, because I still want to go out and party and have fun with Ethan and Danny.  I want a NORMAL college experience, and mature.  Then I also want to get to know YOU better, because damn if I don’t even know the names to all of your family yet, or that we’ve even really had much of ANYTHING together yet except our sexy cuddles?  I wanna see Europe with you!  Go on vacations!  MAKE OUT IN PUBLIC UNTIL JACKSON FULL ON BARFS.  Kids are a long-ass commitment, and having them this young would be a disaster!” he exploded.

Derek was smiling, trying to stifle a laugh.

"THIS ISN'T FUNNY!  I AM SO PULLING A BEYONCE ON YOU.  IF YOU LIKE THIS-" he screamed, pointing to his crotch.  "THEN YOU'RE PUTTING A MOTHERFUCKING RING ON IT, AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING, IT'S CREEPY WHEN YOU LAUGH, YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO FUCKING LAUGH!" Stiles exclaimed, fake-wringing Derek's neck.

Derek just shook his head, planting a kiss on Stiles' cheeks.

“Stiles.  Werewolves, including bitten ones, have an average lifespan of up to 350 to 500 years, depending on the classification and general health.  If that’s all you’re worried about, then don’t.  I’m happy to wait until you’re ready to have kids.  We've got PLENTY of time to worry about that.  After all, it’s you who’ll be carrying them, not me.  And…  Werewolf pregnancies are always difficult with litters.  We’re talking about basically 6 months of solid bedrest and gorging on food for half the day and being overly protective.  It’s not the “easier” human pregnancy, that’s for sure.  There’s a lot of literature and physical training that you’d need to read and do.  Especially when it comes to male breastfeed-”

Stiles cut Derek off shaking his head while he covered Derek's mouth.  “Derek…  Let’s not cross the line on pregnancy yet.  I’d like to have a LITTLE mystery.  Mmmkway?” he said, exaggerating the last line as he bit his bottom lip.

Derek nodded, chuckling quiet.

"So...  No babies yet?" Stile asked, as if to re-affirm.

"No babies yet Stiles," Derek said, patting himself on the shoulder.  "When you're ready for the real sex, there's a contraceptive injection I can take.  Deltas don't have birth control, your system literally melts it, so I'll be the one taking it instead," he answered.

Stiles breathed a little easier, putting his arms around Derek.

“Good..  Good...  Well, uh...  Then there’s also the fact that I’m…  I’m pretty damn weak, even for a werewolf.  I'm pretty sure I'm weaker than Peter's newborn pups,” Stiles mumbled.

The silence protruding from Derek was deafening.  Stiles had expected it, because it really was the truth.  Even with his bullshit immortal healing, he was the newest bitten wolf and while he had an edge over humans, he was near useless as a werewolf.  He wasn’t a Beta and didn’t have their natural strength, it had to be earned.  

“I couldn’t even protect myself from Amos or Ethan.  I could barely SCRATCH Ethan... How the hell would I protect my kids if that monster got to them?  What if the pack got in a fight?  I couldn’t help, and one of you assholes would give yourselves up to save me.  Meaning our pack would be even less useful than normal," Stiles explained.

  
"I'm guessing you have a plan?” Derek countered.  His tone was firm, powerful.   A mixture of pride and self-loathing?  Whatever it was, he acknowledged Stiles’ point.

Stiles leaned back into Derek.  “I got a Hunter’s Permit.  I’ve been accepted at Berkley’s Supernatural Criminal Justice program, Gerard Argent already called and told me I could come for free after he saw my test results and…  I’m guessing my status as a werewolf, so he's excited about having a superpowered hunter in his classes..  I can get a Bachelor’s in 4 years, just like Jackson and Scott.  By that point, I’ll have the skills and training of a Hunter and will have developed myself as a wolf.  Then…  Then..  Then we can move forward.  About Amos…  And…  About us.  About us having a family I can protect.  About me being useful...” he answered.

Derek glared down at Stiles.  “When the hell did you have the time to get a Hunter’s Permit?  Doesn’t that take like 4 years under a master Hunter just to pass the written test?” he asked.

Scoffing, Stiles shook his head.  “Not the point.  The point is about 3 miles in the other direction.  The point was on the LAST train.  Uh, but to answer, two weeks ago, I’m a fast learner.  Oh, and I made a 92 on my highest score, I'm a goddamn genius BTW.  So?  Are you okay with that?  I mean college is...  4 Years.  4 Years is a long time to be away from the pack.  Even longer to be away from you…  I..  I wasn’t-” he asked.

Derek stood up from the bed, pressing a gentle kiss on Stiles’ forehead.  “I’ve got a few calls to make.  Don’t wait up for me,” he answered, in an answerless format.

Though he stopped at the door, pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms that had been shucked to the floor.  “Stiles, I’m not standing in the way of what you want to achieve.  A good mate is one that helps their loved one get to where they want to be.  You helped me get to the good place in my head, so I trust your judgement and will help you get to where you want to be in turn,” he said quietly.  He tugged on a t-shirt that was way too tight.  “But we’re not losing you again.  Not now, not ever.  Definitely not for four years.  I was already dreading losing Jackson and Scott, but I'm NOT losing all of you all at once,” he said mysteriously, before jetting out of the room and quietly shutting it behind him.

Stiles blinked.  His heart thudded.

“Derek?” he asked quietly to the thin air, unsure of what his mate was thinking of.  

All he could feel was the blaze firing in Derek's chest.

+

Derek was scarce for roughly a week after his and Stiles’ talk.  He didn’t even come home that first night, relaying messages through Scott and Adam.  Apparently he’d gone home.  All the way to Southern California, nearly 4 hours away.  Back to the main Hale Compound, where he'd been born.  No explanation, nothing.  Peter had gone as well, leaving Scott to lead the pack in their absence.  

Which, naturally, meant that their pack didn’t get led for a while.

Sitting in the living area, Stiles was re-filling everyone’s lemonade from a fresh tray he'd prepared in the kitchen moments earlier.  The house was hot as Hades, even with the air conditioning on.  August was approaching, and that was painfully obvious.  

Adam waved his face with one of Hunter’s books he'd brought downstairs.  “Goddamnit…  I thought it’d be COOLER up here!  Mom SAID it would be cooler!  She lied to me, didn’t she Hunter?  Why?  Why would our dear mother lie?” he whined, throwing his body on top of Hunter’s.

“Please get off me you mongoloid,” Hunter said quietly, as he took the glass from Stiles back and sipped it quietly.

Stiles laughed, handing another full glass back to Adam as well.  “You know…  It could be worse.  One summer, the air in my old house went out.  My dad had a heat stroke, and I wasn’t far behind him,” he offered.

Adam shot Stiles a surprised look.  “Are humans really that fragile?” he asked, in the most offensive manner possible.

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “Never been around many humans, huh?” he asked, as he moved over to Scott and Jackson.  

“Not really.  The Hale Compound is about 10 miles from the nearest town.  Even if we are well liked?  Humans are still very nervous around us.  Then again, there’s about…  What, 90 to 100 of us living there right now?” he asked, turning to Cora, who was lounging on Derek’s recliner.

“Give or take,” she responded, stealing a glass from Stiles’ tray.

Jackson whisstled quietly, quietly snug on Scott’s lap.  “Can you IMAGINE that many people in one house?  Dear God, I think I’d kill myself before I let that happen,” he said loudly.

Pouting, Scott took a drink for both himself and Jackson.  “But…  What if I wanted that many?” he asked.  Scott put on his best puppy dog eyes he had, and play-whined in Jackson's shoulder.

The room, including Jackson, groaned in a painful unison.

Stiles just smirked.  The two had started dating, FINALLY, not long after Stiles finished his exam for his Hunter’s Permit.  Not that it had been any big secret.  Within three days of seeing them together, Adam was asking when they’d get married.  

Though while Scott was eager to be publicly mushy, Jackson wasn’t.  Likely the old self-esteem issues rearing their ugly head.  Even Stiles knew that having Scott as a lover meant a hell of a lot more than most relationships, and was the perfect kind of person for Jackson to have.

Because Scott was going to love Jackson as he was, not how he should be.  

“I’m not changing their diapers Scott.  Think _long and hard_ ,” Stiles replied seriously.  Because while he knew Scott was joking… Actually, Scott was probably not joking.

“That’s what he said,” Scott said, snorting as he pointed to Jackson.

Jackson covered Scott’s mouth.  “Please don’t talk anymore.  I swear, with Derek gone, it’s like you’ve lost ANY filter,” he answered.

Finished with his refill round, Stiles was content to plop next to Isaac and Ethan on the bean bag chair that probably only was meant for one.  He shared the last three drinks between them.  

“So Derek said he’d be back soon right?  Anyone know what’s up?” Ethan asked, turning to Scott for guidance.

Scott just shrugged, pushing Jackson’s hand off his mouth.  “Just said he had to talk to his mom about something.  Some honor thing about him doing it in person?  Dunno,” he answered.

Humming, Hunter turned another page in his book.  “Our mother is very strict with the old ways of Alphadom.  Meaning that any request from Derek regarding the family or a change in mother’s plan must be taken through her in person.  Giving that it’s been nearly a week, I can only assume territory must be in discussion.  It’s the only thing that would take this long,” he answered.

“Wait, he talks?” Isaac asked playfully as he pointed over to Hunter.

“Yes, and I likely know more words than your tiny peabrain could ever hope to comprehend.  Peasant!” Hunter spat back.

Isaac shrugged.  “Meh, probably, I’m not going to argue it,” he responded, turning to Stiles and Ethan.  “So…  Gin rummy?” he asked hopefully.

Their card game plans were brought to an abrupt halt as the front door swung open and all eyes shot to Derek Hale…

In a suit.

Derek Hale should never be allowed to be in a suit.  Stiles didn't have the patience for Derek Hale in a suit.  He was already half-hard.

Struggling to rip off his tie, Derek huffed and pointed to his pack.  “Don’t…  Move.  I want to get this spiel over with and CHANGE.  Because THIS asshole likes formality,” he said, signaling backwards where Peter was also joining them.  He too was in a suit and tie, putting out all the stops.

“Nice monkey suit.  All you’re missing is the organ grinder!” Adam said, laughing heartily as he fell off of his seat as he exaggerated his emotions.

Peter shot Adam a glare of death.  “This is actually a very important matter.  I hope you all give Derek the time and respect he deserves.  I’d hate to tell everyone about that weekend you spent in Maui, Adam,” he said darkly.

Adam shot back on the couch and sat quietly.  “I’ll be good,” he whispered. 

Derek rolled his eyes, stepping towards his recliner, where he politely shooed Cora out of it and onto the couch with his brothers.  He took a deep breath and adjusted his tie.  

“As we all know, three of our pack members are going off to college.  I’m happy to say that my mother, Talia Hale, has already deposited the funds in our pack account to cover tuition and outside expenses.  Not that this is the announcement, but it’s worth noting,” Derek said, turning to Stiles, Jackson, and Scott.  “My mother looks forward to hearing your successes.  She says she’ll make sure and come visit in the coming years when she has time,” he finished.

The three nodded appreciatively, while Stiles felt his heart uptick.  Derek had never expressly said if he approved of Stiles’ decision or not.  Well, he DID, but he also sort of flipped out and went home for a week.  So he wasn't sure.

“You’re all going to Berkley, right?  That’s so AWESOME!  It’s right next to San Francisco, and they have the BEST night clubs!” Cora said eagerly.

Peter turned to his niece.  “What would you, an underaged girl, know about night clubs?” he asked smugly.

“NOTHING, I KNOW NOTHING, DON’T TELL MOM,” Cora answered, blushing as she lost the ability to lie halfway through.

“As I was saying?” Derek said, glaring at Cora and Peter to kindly shut up.  As they did, Derek crossed his legs.  “Naturally, with three of the pack members going far away, this would making both living arrangements and pack arrangements a nightmare.  I don't want to leave anyone behind...  So…  I went to my mother to get permission for a territorial swap,” he said.

Scott piqued his eyes.  “Territorial swap?” he asked.

Derek nodded.  “It’s what we refer to when two Alphas agree to swap territories.  In this case, it was between myself and the territory of Beacon Hills, and my Brother Nero, who is in charge of the San Francisco territory.  He was assigned to move North the same time I was,” he explained.

It didn’t take long for Stiles to put two and two together of where the conversation was going.

“Nero…  Nero hasn’t been doing very well.  His pack is less than ours, only three members and we’ve been branch Alphas of the Hale Family for the same period of time.  San Francisco is too large for him to control, and the local mayor has been complaining that the Hale Pack hasn’t been pulling their weight in controlling the Supernatural issues like we had promised when we negotiated for our trek north,” Derek explained.

“Nero was rather dull.  I’m pretty sure he turned Beta for a week.  Zero backbone,” Hunter said, actually slamming his book shut.  He wasn't happy, his face was clear about that.  “So let me get this straight.  You offered to give up the relatively PEACEFUL Beacon Hills territory, for the Godforsaken city of San Francisco?  Do you have ANY idea what the monster level is there?  Vampires?  Sirens?  Banshees?  Feral and Omega Werewolves?  Grimm?  There are MANY things that want to kill us out there,” Hunter exclaimed bitterly.

Stiles turned to Derek with hopeful eyes.

Derek nodded.  “Yes.  Nero has signed over command of San Francisco to me.  We move at the end of the month.  Mother has purchased us a large set of renovated townhomes that are all connected together.  Roughly 20 rooms and one large living region connected to them all.  This is a temporary move while Nero strengthens his pack, and gives us a way of staying close to our younger Betas and Delta while getting stronger.  We’ve dealt with petty demons and threats in Beacon Hills.  We need to be ready for when real tragedy might strike.  We'll swap territories back after everyone has graduated.  That is, if we want to,” he explained.

Beaming, Stiles shot up out of the seat.  “Seriously?” he asked.

Turning to his mate, Derek smiled.  “I’m not losing ANY of you.  We’re pack.  We’re family.  We stay together,” he said directly.

A warm moment that Stiles chose to go and hug tightly with his mate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for the finale and part II! As always, I appreciate feedback and/or suggestions on adventures the guys and gals will be getting into! :3


	11. Chapter 11

_“Is this thing on?  It is?  Oh for fuck’s sake…  Why are they making me use this goddamn…   Oh, it’s on?  Thanks Cee, what would I do without you?_

_< A mild static cuts in the recording>_

_Today’s date is November 23rd, 1974.  Anyway, this is the first recorded diary of the Nightsbane Report, a long term research agreement between the Zaur, Argent, Hale and Noir families._

_My name is Cecil Noir, and I’m the head researcher…  Well, I guess I’m the ONLY researcher… With the economy the way it is, and the Zaur family not really able to provide much…  ANYWAY, that’s not the point._

_The combined powers of the two strongest Hunter families, the Hale werewolf pack led by Montgomery Hale, and my family, the Noirs have come together for this historic project._

_I um..  I guess the basic premise behind the project is to research werewolves.  No…  No wait, that’s too simple…  Uh..  Let me start over!_

_It’s been 50 or so years since they came out of the shadows, and…  Well, I guess we’ve got a good enough peace with the Hale family and the Argent Family that…_

_GAH, I’m no good at this.  Scrap ALL of that bullshit._

_< Another static is hit in the recording>_

_Long story short is that I am researching werewolves.  Well, researching werewolves in a…_

_Fuck._

_< Another static cut>_

_My name is Cecil Noir, and I’m researching the cellular structure of werewolves.  The Hale, Zaur and Argent families selected my sister and I, the Noirs, to head this project out of both respect to our family, and the centuries of knowledge we’ve gathered._

_They call us, my sister and I, the “Divine Ones”, but we’ve long since lost our connection with the Gods…  Nowadays, we’re just extremely knowledgeable about all things supernatural.  Cee is a mage like no other, and I suppose I’ve given into the new genetic craze and fallen in love with science._

_It’s so AMAZING what they can do these days!  Hawking is a genius.  If only I could pry into his brain for just a few days!_

_Well…  I suppose I’m digressing…  I’m a talker, can’t you tell?_

_< the sound of a woman cackling can be heard in the background>_

_CEE!  Shut up!  I know I’m like dad, but DAMN, show me some respect!  This is HISTORIC!  The Nightsbane Report is going to be the very first attempt at cataloging all of the 26 werewolf classes and their cellular structure!  Think of what we could accomplish in the future!  What our CHILDREN can do with this information!  Even when we’re dead and gone, the data I’m going to catalog could unlock the secrets of the future!_

_< An audible groan can be heard from the same woman>_

_You know what Cee?  Fuck you!  When I’ve got the power to reproduce werewolf cells inside of a human body without needing a bite? You won’t be the one laughing!  Humanity will REJOICE ,and I’ll have a big parade in MY HONOR.  A big one!  The Beatles, Elton John, and The Bee Jees will play, and YOU can’t come!  So NYA!_

_< The sound of things being thrown is heard>_

_AHH!  Stop it Cee!  That’s my good china!  MY GOOD CHINA!”_

_< The recording cuts off>_

_+++++_

_(Modern Day)_

An underground facility, somewhere in the desert bluffs of Nevada, was caked in blood and corpses from the hospital-esque mute walls, to the tile floor straight out of the 1960’s.  Wolves lied limp and lifeless, being stacked in piles by the few remaining medical specialists.   Some of the piles were on fire, burning the corpses into nothing but ash.  The smell was awful, a mixture of ash, blood, and the expulsion of bodily fluids the dead had trailed over the floor.

Dead medical workers and scientists were being put inside body bags and hefted away on carts individually.  Sobbing could be heard in every ounce of the facility.

A male, with silky black hair and a leather Hunter’s uniform stood still, listening to sounds of the overhead speakers roaring in a monotone unison.

“Code 949.  I repeat, Code 949.  Zaur Laboratories is currently in full-facility lockdown.  All living employees are to report for blood testing and psychological evaluations.  Cleared employees and staff hunters and mages are to assist in purification pyres and moving purposes to autopsy.  I repeat, Code 949”

Looking up from the burning pile of wolves, the sweaty forehead of Matt Daehler dripped to the ground.  He shook, feeling his gut churn as ANOTHER body bag passed by him.  The Zaur Nightbane Facility was home to well over 1000 people.  It was thanks to them that the Dunbar pack had been captured silently.  It was thanks to them that the research on Feral Flare had gotten where it was.  His mom and dad had been there, helping to purge the world of the “lycanthrope menace”.  Yet now?

They’d be lucky to have 25 surviving members.  Not including his family or his little sister.  He’d already seen their corpses in the main entryway when they’d been called back from a training mission.

Those monsters had taken everything.

“DAEHLER,” a brutish voice screamed.

Matt jumped, glaring over towards one of the many Hunters he’d been out with while the massacre took place.  Training for his position at Berkley’s SCJ with Gerard Argent.  He was going to be the best.  At least…  That’s what his father had expected out of him.  He left for school in the coming weeks.

“Yes sir?” Matt responded grimly.

The brute sighed.  “Master Snow is coming.  You’re going to want to be here for this,” he answered.

Matt’s gut dropped into a bit of solid ice.  Master Snow, the leader of the Zaur family was coming THERE.  He never left his media campaign against the werewolves.  Which meant he was likely pissed off.  At them.  

“Shit..” Matt grumbled, turning away from the burning wolves and walking alongside his bulky mentor.  Most of the facility hallways were blocked off by metal doors, meaning that there was only a short walk to what had once been the facility cafetera.  The only room spared from the carnage, most of the medical staff and researchers had been ushered inside while the Hunters “cleaned up” the messes everywhere.

Matt glanced around and immediately signed in relief.  Malia Tate, one of the sorceresses on base and his best friend since elementary homeschooling, had survived.  Though her face was a pale white, gaping in horror.

Slowly, Matt walked to her side, leaning against the wall beside her.  “Thank God you’re alright…  How’d it happen?  The ferals get loose before the staff got them up top to the surface?” he asked quietly, hugging her from the side.

Malia shook her head.  “No…  No…” she mumbled quietly, while huddling her arms together for warmth.  “Dear God…  Matt it was…  I was-” she stammered out..

Matt raised an eyebrow, silenced as excited murmuring covered the room that ended his and Malia’s conversation.  He turned to the entrance of the cafeteria, where Snow Zaur was hobbling inside.  Leaning on a black and white cane, complete with the snowflake insignia of the Zaur family, he had a great deal of difficulty in walking.  Everyone knew that his leg had been mauled by a feral werewolf, but never said anything.about it.  

Not that a limp made him any less dangerous.  The man had enough spells and training up his arsenal to be one of the most power mages in the world.  In the 1980’s, he been responsible for the Starry Night Massacre, which destroyed an entire complex of werewolf homes.  He used a mixture of gravity and summons to call down a meteor from the sky at unparalleled speeds.  They’d never seen it coming.

The room went silent as Snow approached one of the researchers.  “Explain,” he asked quietly..

“Master..  Master Snow!  We…  We didn’t…  We didn’t-” a researcher said, trembling under Snow’s unquenching stare.

Snow lifted his metallic cane up, knocking it into the man’s neck and forcing him to his knees as he clenched his neck.  Matt cringing, having heard the poor man’s throat nearly snap in half..

“Can somebody COMPETENT tell me what happened?  I expect an explanation in the next ten seconds,” Snow said, slamming his cane down on the researcher’s gut, causing him to vomit and dry-retch on the floor next to him.  Snow stepped over the researcher.  "Do any of you have any idea of what's at stake here?  ANY of you?" he screeched.

A woman scientist stepped forward.  Matt recognized her as Malia’s mother, and noted how Malia grabbed his hand and clung to it tightly.  He didn’t blame her fear.  Most people who interacted with Snow were oft found dead minutes later.

Malia’s mother took a brief moment to clear her threat.  “We were following your instructions, sir.  Using the Feral Flare to turn the Dunbar pack into Feral Wolves, as part of our family's goal of creating distrust of the werewolf population.  During the transformative process, a small child of the pack stepped forward in the cages.  It was after the beast’s mother had been changed, at least what I assume, I was not there for the breach in protocol.  It was in tears, calling out for its mother.  One of our researchers felt pity on the creature and attempted to console it.  When the cage was opened, the child began glowing a pale silver,” she explained.

“That does not answer my question.  What HAPPENED,” Snow asked, struggling to walk towards the woman and make eye contact with.  

Malia leaned into Matt, clinging to him desperately.  “Hesgoingtokillmom...Matt,he’sgoingtokillmom,” she whispered frantically.  

“The child was a Gamma, sir.  One of the strongest I’d ever witnessed,” she explained

Snow hummed quietly.  “A Gamma Werewolf.  A beast that can sacrifice their own life energy and generate limitless power for a pack .  You are telling me that a fool actually broke protocol and allowed for a Gamma werewolf to share the same air as the rest of its pack?  That it gave FERAL werewolves unlimited power and life?  Who was the fool that did this? he asked bitterly.

Malia’s mother didn’t bother to hesitate.  “Rena Atteh.  She survived the attack.  She’s over there,” she said, nodding off to the corner.  

Murmurings spread like wildfire, as Snow spun around, slamming his cane into the tiled floor, where it echoed endlessly in the room.  “Atteh.  Step forward,” he bellowed.

Slowly, a young researcher stepped forward.  Matt was fairly surprised, she couldn’t have been that much older than Malia or himself.  Yet, she stood tall.  Unafraid of the man before them.  

A fool.  A brave fool.

Snow’s eyes were blazing, and could kill if given a weak enough target.

“Why did you do this?  Your carelessness caused the lives of countless of your brothers and sisters.  All for what?  A crying werewolf pup?  It makes no sense.  It was a dog.  A crying dog that was going to be put down anyway.  A waste.  All of these lives lost, because of YOU,” Snow asked hobbling next to the woman.

Rena sighed.  “Maybe it wasn’t an accident?  Maybe I knew what he was and knew what I was doing.  Maybe I’m not like the rest of you heartless bastards.  I see the werewolf race for what they truly are,” she answered, smirking towards Snow.

Matt’s eyes shot wide open.  NOBODY talked to Master Snow like that.  It was grounds for death.  And it WASN’T an accident?  The bitch had put a GAMMA in contact with its pack?!  His heart was racing.

“I see.  And what are they then?  I’d love to know how deluded one of my own family has become,” Snow replied quietly, gripping the handle of his cane tightly.

Rena never once let her eyes leave Snow’s.  “They are the same as us.  We are all but children in the grand scheme of things.  Scared, frightened children in this big dark world where things go bump in the night.  Children who want a warm world to live in.  With friends and family.  All we differ in is our origins and where we come from in this world.  Nothing more, nothing less,” she said sternly.

Snow stood quietly.

“The child wanted his mother back.  His mother had just become a monster, a monster that YOU ordered them to create.  He cried and just wanted his mother’s warm touch.  THAT is the kind of thing you would call a monster.  Someone who cries and wants their mother.  You call him “IT”, but that boy had a name.  That boy had a life.  That boy had friends and family, and even if I can’t stop you or any of this madness that you’re forcing us into doing, but like hell will I ever not care about another being in pain,” Rena said happily.  She then stepped forward and scoffed in Snow’s face.  “So I opened the door to his cage.  I told him exactly what had happened and what he had to do to make sure that nobody else got hurt like his mom.  I made sure to tell him not to hold back, because if his people wanted peace, he’d have to destroy the Zaur family,” she said snidely.

The crowd was frantic, many mumbling and screaming for her death.  

Matt and Malia just watched in the far back.  

“A werewolf sympathizer?  In the Zaur family?” Malia whispered, shaking her head.  

“Insane…  Absolutely…  Insane,” Matt thought angrily, wanting to wring the bitch’s neck.  It’d been HER fault that his family was gone.  Her and those damn wolves.

Snow rubbed his forehead painfully with his non-armed hand.  “You realize I’m going to kill you, right?”  All of this nonsense is just so-”

Rena smiled, cutting him off.  “If we’re all children in this world?  Your deluded mind and sense of “pride” for your family’s old way of thinking?  In the end, you’re no different than schoolyard bully who’s got rich parents that can get him out of trouble no matter what horrible thing he does.  In the end though, that’s all you are.  A bully.  A poor, pathetic bully.  One day you’re going to piss off the WRONG person.  The person who doesn’t care who you are or where you come from.  That person is going to kill you, Snow Zaur, and your family will be all too happy to finally see you gone, and-”

Snow brought the tip of his cane to the scientist’s head, nearly knocking her of her feet in the process.  He forced it into her mouth.  “You know what failure to the Zaurs means.  Though for your disrespect, I find your death should suffice,” he said quietly, as he pulled a trigger in the handle of his cane.  An explosion from the tip of his cane shot the woman’s head off, where it rolled into the feet of a screeching pair of scientists, falling to the ground in abject horror.

Matt shook.  He’d seen Snow kill others before.  Countless others.  Still…  Never had they been killed that…  Brutally.

“Let this be a lesson.  Don’t fail our family, or your head will roll.  Don’t ever speak to me that way ever again either.  Or I will kill you, your family, and torch your corpse into a fine meal to feed the ferals,” Snow spat, hobbing off towards the middle of the room.  He snapped his fingers, where Rena’s corpse burst into a fury of flames.

Malia looked away, while Matt bit his bottom lip tightly.

“Idiot.  She could have lived.  WHY would she do that?  It was just a stupid mutt...” Matt thought to himself.

Malia’s hand curled into an angry fist.  

“Dahler, Matt.  Tate, Malia.  Step forward,” Snow barked.

While the rest of the scientists, researchers, and hunters left in a rush to get out of Snow Zaur’s sight, both Malia and Matt turned in horror as Snow stood patiently and waited for them.

Matt and Malia nodded, doing as they were told.  They stood before Snow Zaur, heads bowed.

“Yes sir?” Matt asked quietly.

Snow banged his cane against the floor loudly.  “I have a task for the two of you.  Failure is not an option,” he explained

Matt’s stomach did a double backflip.  

Turning away from them, Snow began the slow movement towards the front door.  “Come with me.  There is much to prepare and little time to prepare for it.  The drive to Berkeley is long, and I don’t have the patience to explain myself twice,” he explained menacingly.

"Berkeley?" Malia asked.

Snow nodded.  "Gerard Argent needs to see the old ways are the right ways.  You two will make that a possibility," he replied coldly.

 

<End of Case File:  Dobblebanger ; Courtesy of the Hale Family Archives>

<Related Case File:  Snowfall ; Courtesy of the San Francisco Police Department>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for "Season 2"? :3

**Author's Note:**

> Suggestions on how you'd like this story to go are very welcome.


End file.
